


The Master's House

by SleazyJeezy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Dark, F/F, F/M, Fetish, M/M, Master!Levi, Master/Slave, Obsession, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Psychological, S&M, Sexual Slavery, Smut, Spanking, Things Get Better, Underage - Freeform, Violence, genderbent Hange, hope within despair, lots of cliffhangers, occasional yuri, quick smut slow romance, slave!eren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 14:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 86,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3900040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleazyJeezy/pseuds/SleazyJeezy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a time where slavery is not just present but common,  a young and wealthy Master is bound by certain expectations.</p><p>Master A, as his distant neighbors know him, is a recluse. He spends his days working from home and is never seen leaving his mansion. He is said to be ruthless and violent, cold and indifferent.</p><p>One evening, a young and filthy runaway slave shows up to the door, begging for admittance. </p><p>Unknown to the residents of the house, this slave will upend the rituals pressed upon them by society and change everything they've come to know.</p><p>The troubled Master doesn't stand a chance when faced with the boy's oceanic gaze and hard determination.</p><p>***Non-con is short-lived and mostly in the past***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Servant

**Author's Note:**

> Please be read the tags and be warned.  
> This story starts out quite dark, and contains triggering content and uncomfortable moments.  
> BUT.  
> It gets better. It really does. After one hell of an emotional ride.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy burst in like a whirlwind; beautifully dangerous and deceptively strong. We were forcefully uplifted and easily swept away.

**Chapter One**

 

  **The Servant**

 

It was a warm August evening when the boy arrived. The sun had just hit the horizon, casting light over the damp earth and long shadows among the thick forest surrounding the mansion. It had rained that day, I recall, as the boy's filthy knees knelt in the doorway and I was overcome with disgust and upset at the prospect of cleaning it once he was gone. Little did I realize then, that the boy wouldn't be leaving that night; or any night thereafter.

 

 

The day started like any other, of course. I awake in the earliest hour to prepare my Master's tea, placing it neatly at his bedside before gently retracting the curtains just enough to allow the soft glow of morning to wake him. His favorite way to wake, as he'd told me many years earlier. Without word, my young master accepts the tea and morning paper whilst I retrieved his small breakfast from the maid at the door. It's the blonde, much to my dismay, with her icy glare and sharp nose that seems to pierce right through anyone in her line of sight. Most likely, this is the exact reason the master graduated her from sexing the sheets to cleaning them. Who could fuck proper with those hawkish eyes on them? Certainly not myself, anyway.

 

As if reading my own judgmental gaze, she gives a sly smirk and leaves. Without looking up from his paper, my master chides me, "Don't bother Annie, Han. She'll poison our food." 

 

 

I smile politely. "I haven't said a thing, young master. Certainly she wouldn't be so bold."

 

 

The silence between us is comfortable and light. We both know Annie would indeed be so bold, but I say nothing more. Her presence and position under his care are as much a testament to his kindness as my own, although his harsh reputation keeps anyone from noticing. The mansion is surrounded by grassy fields on one side and dense forest on the other. The nearest neighbors are all miles away, and would require a carriage ride just to exchange pleasantries. Despite that distance, the power of gossip seems to find them and anyone else out here in the countryside. 

 

 

 _'He's ruthless. Beats his bitches and maids alike, I hear! No better than a monster.'_   The other nobles will whisper among themselves at whatever big event they're holding that week, as if he is a bear among wolves. A master who hurts not just his slaves but his staff is somehow appalling, and they fancy themselves the better. A beast is a beast is a beast. No owner is better than another, if you ask the servants beneath them. However, his terrible reputation comes from his predecessor; the deceased uncle to which he owes his inheritance, and the true monster whom once terrorized this countryside with the bodies of his beaten charges. Although my master is in his own way kind, he is still a master. Raised by the monster to become a monster. I believe these two warring sides are to be this house’s downfall, but it isn’t a servant’s place to think; certainly not to interfere.

 

 

As the day moves on, I tend to my duties as the master's trusted servant. I clean his room to the high standards that the maids never seem to meet, as well as the adjoining bathroom. In the kitchens, I check the storerooms for his favorite foods, teas, and spices. The wine cellar is well stocked, and I finish my list in record time. 

 

 

I recall feeling that the day had been going quite well. 

 

 

I meet up with my master again outside, at one of the many seating areas around the mansion's wrap-around deck. He sits quietly in a warm patch of sunlight, writing fiercely over a scroll of parchment. I take a seat at the opposite end of the round, metal table, keeping my matching metal chair distant and pointed away from him as a sign of submissive respect. After a few long minutes of appreciated rest he seems to finish his work, scanning his slate-grey eyes over the paper and folding it into threes, then stuffing it into an envelope. "Bring me the small one, with the fair hair that I like. I'll take her in my office, after tea." He orders as the rich, red wax drips and dries over the crisp paper.

 

 

With a silent nod, I retrace my steps back inside and down one of the many long, lavish corridors of the house. The thick rugs that line the hallways are a lusty red that reflect beautifully off of the well-polished grey marble floors. The walls contain paintings of various nobles and landscapes that have been long forgotten by the residents to the point that we can't even be bothered to remove them. I doubt my master has even looked at them more than once in his lifetime of living here. When I turn a sharp corner on the second floor, the atmosphere changes noticeably from the expressive show of wealth found downstairs.

 

 

The girls stay here on the second floor. Between the first floor where the guests are entertained and the business happens, and the third floor where the Master's suite oversees us all, they stay in their own world of sterile halls and simple beds. The hallway wall is soon replaced by a long, seemingly endless pane of glass, allowing me to look within at the equally endless rows of beds and slaves. Here in their small world, the master is their god and I, his messenger. They don't see me right away. From their side, the long window shows only their reflections, a constant reminder of their place and the importance of their appearances here. Some stand staring into it while fixing their hair or smoothing the mandatory white gowns they each wear. Some sit atop their beds socializing with each other or looking through one of the preapproved picture books from their small bookshelves. Before entering, I stare into the eyes of a girl, just inches from my face; her gaze fixed only on a crease in her brow and missing me completely from behind the glass. 

 

 

I remember once when I was young, asking my trainer the curious questions of childhood. "Sir, why are some girls slaves and some girls aren't?" It was a sensible question at the time. In a world where women were objects, why did some of them draw the short straw, and why was the long straw hardly any better? 

 

 

"Some slaves birth other slaves, Han. When a girl is no good as a slave, she becomes something worse; homeless. Free for all men to pray on in the streets. So the good girls do their best. Sometimes that effort is rewarded, and they are taken from the slave trade and made into maids and other servants. Then, they don't have to do the bad things to live in safety."

 

 

I nodded my head like I understood, even though I didn't. "But what about the noble ladies?"

 

 

I knew I was crossing a line by asking, but I also knew that he didn't really mind when I was curious. He called it one of my 'strengths'; something I wouldn't understand either for a long time. He shakes his head at me and whispers, "We don't talk about the noble babies, Han. If you ever let a noble hear you question their purity, they'll have you hanged. Understand?"

 

I didn't know if he meant literally or figuratively, but I knew I didn't want to find out. I nodded again.

 

 

The ornate white wooden door swings open easily on the hinges. The door has no handle, only a lock to which there are few keys. At my entrance, the ladies all stop their movements and look to me expectantly; composed and submissive. A few of the new arrivals appear uncertain and afraid, but I ignore their questioning eyes, scanning the room for my master's requested slave.

 

 

"Miss Petra," I say when my eyes finally catch hers in the far corner of the room, trying to disappear into the cream colored paint behind her. "Come with me." I extend an elbow and she takes it with soft and trembling fingertips. The gesture is my only form of sympathy for the girls. Letting them pretend they are being whisked off to a ball is much kinder than the truth: being whisked off to master's rough touch.

 

 

In the large washroom at the end of the second floor, Petra undresses shyly and avoids my gaze as though this isn't a regular occurrence. I watch her closely to ensure she has washed thoroughly to the Master's liking and help her redress into a new white gown, one with a petticoat and without undergarments. I could see acceptance in her eyes but I felt no sorrow for her fate. We are all a slave to someone. We must all give ourselves to a master. Her self is simply more desired than theirs.

 

 

I instruct her to wait in one of the small sitting areas near the main staircase on the first floor, and fetch the afternoon tea tray. Master's carefully organized office looks expectantly pristine, as does the crisp suit he wears as he works. Although he rarely leaves the mansion, he always dresses as if he were expecting a business meeting at any moment, which I silently admire while he sips his tea. I bow and turn to leave him to his peace, but he stops me. "Hanji. How long now have you known me?" The question is quite out of character, and catches me unaware.

 

 

"It has been many long, fruitful years, Master Levi. Since we were both young boys, and so I would wager at least twenty years." I don't ask why he has questioned me so, for I know that he knows  _exactly_ how long it has been since our meeting. Instead, I keep my gaze steady in his direction, but do not meet his eyes in challenge.

 

"Then you know how easily I grow bored, do you not?" I nod once and bow my head, awaiting his continuation. "The girl... she's getting old. Bring me my things, and prepare her. Do not bring her before me until she is ready, understood?" I swallow a hard lump in my throat but bow again. 

 

 

The large wooden chest remains in the dark corner of Master's large closet. It is heavy, and I struggle to stand it up on its side. I struggle even more when I take it by the handle and begin my decent back down the stairs, where Petra waits in a wide, dark leather chair. She picks at a cuticle nervously. When the trunk hits the floor beside her heavily, she jumps quite literally from her thoughts and gives a small whimper.  _'Oh, how the Master shall break you.'_ I think to myself.

 

 

Her eyes grow wide at the sight of the box in its obvious importance. It's wooden and metal holds the corners and seams together, with three locks total - one for each side without hinges. "Do not look inside, little miss." She closes her eyes obediently, wiping the sweat from her brow. I pull the key ring from my breast pocket and select two of them, one small one for the side locks and a larger for the main, front lock. They each click one after the other as the box cracks open. I pull from within a long, black strip of silk and two lengths of rope that have been treated carefully and made soft and pliable. I tie the cloth around her eyes securely and quickly. She lets out a small gasp of surprise but makes no move to escape. The ropes cause her obvious unease when they pull at the skin of her wrists and elbows; her arms secured behind her tightly. I close up the trunk but do not lock every lock. With the thick leather handle in one hand and Petra's delicate shoulder in the other, I take them both down the hall of the first floor and to the Master's office.

 

 

When I pause outside of his door, a small, kind part of myself that I tend to ignore brings me to a stop. I lean close to her ear, even knowing her senses are sharp with her eyes covered. With a whisper, I give only one warning before shoving her through the threshold with the trunk and closing the door, locking it.

 

 

"No matter what he does to you,  _don't cry._ " She will cry, of course. They always do. Then, it will only get worse. _"Like his uncle before him, he is cursed with an unquenchable thirst."_   The words of my own predecessor ring in my ears, even after these many years without him.

 

 

I lose myself in my thoughts of him; wondering where he is and if he is happy there. I'd never tell Mr. Smith this, but I always admired his sharp intellect and understanding heart. It is that spirit that I try my hardest to carry with me, but the years of cruel memories have hardened me in a way that never seemed to affect him. The day grows sour as the storm clouds roll in. The maids scramble to bring in the laundry from the lines and a few of our landscapers look disheartened as they descend the steps to the basement level where the servant chambers are. As I flit about the first floor's various offices and meeting rooms, party rooms and the dining hall, I train my ears on the sound of raindrops tapping the windows; anything to avoid the sad sounds of Petra's despair that leak through from Master's office. He takes his time with her this evening, no doubt the last attention he intends to give her. I wonder momentarily where she will end up when he's bored of her.

 

 

I've finished my personal assignments and have moved onto helping the maids with their usual work by the time his office door cracks, and the sound of my call bell chimes only once. Not a good sign. If the master only rings once, and it isn't heard, a severe punishment will meet whomever when they  _do_ arrive. I let out a breath of relief that I've managed to stay on the first floor all of these hours, and hurry to the door immediately.

 

 

The master has gone from the door, but it remains cracked so that I may enter. I do, and am met with the sad sight that is Petra. Only it isn't Petra, not really. She is a new Petra now; broken in a way that only my master can manage to make so beautiful and so tragic. Her cheeks are pink and stained with tears, but otherwise her face has been left untouched.  _"I told you not to cry, little miss."_  Although I should be sad, I find I am only upset at what this means for me: more work.

 

 

"Clean her up. Send someone to clean the rest." He waves a hand in the general direction of the office. The large desk towards the back wall has been utterly disheveled, and a few pens and other things lay about the floor, which is spotted with wet spots of varying color and consistency.  _Blood there, drool there, and you-know-what over there..._

 

 

I help her up, not in any mood to be gentle. Her body still shakes with silent sobs but the spots on her cheeks are drying, as if she's run out of tears. The corners of her mouth are reddened, and it sits in a permanent frown. I pack up my master's  _things_  into the trunk, and take Petra back to the second floor. She doesn't get a trip to the washroom right away, but I send someone a while later to care for her. The used items in the trunk are cleaned to spotless perfection before being tucked away in the closet again.  _Blindfold, ropes, ball gag, a string of wooden beads, master's favored riding crop_... I mentally check them all off the list and ensure nothing has been left behind.  _  
_

 

 

It is then that the fateful event happened. Of course, no one knew at the time that it would be fateful; one rarely does, I suppose. The doorbell was ringing, and I immediately start toward the stairwell for the thousandth time that day. The ring cuts short, however, as if the person ringing has changed their mind, which causes me to hesitate on the stairs in confusion. Not a second later it's ringing again, this time in quick successions of panic. I hurry down the spiral, and the closer I get to the ground floor the more panicked _I_ become, because if I don't get to the door soon I can't imagine what the master will do to me. Their fists are pounding at the damned thing now, as I pass master's office and see Annie inside. She pauses in her scrubbing over the carpet to throw me a worried look and I return it, sweat dripping down my brow.A few long strides bring me at last to the large doors and I swing them open hastily, expecting an entire group of policemen, or hoodlums, or  _anyone_ but the small, fragile looking person staring at me. I can't believe someone so... pitiful could have been making all of that noise.

 

 

"Please, sir! I must speak with your master!"  _It's a boy!_   The shock must be apparent, because he lowers his face to the ground as if to hide it in his hands as he kneels on the welcome mat. " _Please_ _!_ I must! I must speak with him immediately!"

 

 

The small frame is thin and dirty; obvious signs of his trek through the forest can be seen clinging to his legs and arms in the form of mud clumps and scrapes. The pale skin was easily mistaken for that of a girl at first glance, but now that I know he is male I can see that his slender figure is due to undernourishment and not his birth. When I don't move or answer, his wide eyes look up to meet mine with a piercing blue-green clarity. His gaze is determined and reminds me of a wild beast. His chest heaves heavily with exertion and he stinks of sweat even from my distance above him. As if reading in my face that I am about to turn him away, he looks momentarily panicked, and shuffles forward on his knees until he is inside; dirtying the carpet and pushing me backwards.

 

 

"Hey! Kid, you can't come in h-"

 

 

"Please!!" His filthy hands grip the hem of my trousers and I feel anger bubble within me. The sheer shock of what is happening is holding me back, however, and the boy gets away with his pleading a moment longer. Then, the feared thing happens.

 

 

"Hanji, what  _the hell_ is going on out here!?" My master's stone-cold, irate voice sends daggers of ice down my spine as he speaks from only a few feet behind me.

 

 

_Well, shit._


	2. The Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The master unknowingly made the decision that would alter all of our lives, forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel quite terrible for Petra. I really do. But I needed her to undergo something dark so that she could serve a certain purpose in the coming chapters. I hope you all can forgive me for that.

**Chapter Two**

 

**The Master**

 

The timing of the boy's arrival was perfect, in hindsight. He came at the end of a peaceful day that I had managed to sour during my session with that slave girl.  _Petra_ , as I now remember it, thanks to his constant nagging some time later. If he had come before my time with her I certainly wouldn't have been so... flimsy. I gave in all too easily to his large, watery eyes and persistent pleading. I left the maids to clean the stains on the carpet from his knees and now here we are; myself and my faithful servant Hanji, staring silently at him as he bows at my feet on the floor of my newly cleaned office. 

 

What is it about his voice as he begs that causes me to listen, when normally such pleading falls on deaf ears? "Please, Master A! Make me your slave!" This is the first thing he's said since he entered my office with a thousand 'thank yous' and I commanded his silence. My surprise is mirrored on Hanji's face from his position in the corner.

 

"I have no interest in boys, child. Masters are not meant to own males, for that matter. Knowing this, I have to question not only where you've come from, but also what you could possibly be doing here." My gaze is cold, but the anger I should be feeling is only resting inside; tamed by my romp with the girl. He has no idea his life has been spared by both fate and a young girl's tears.

 

His head remains bowed at my feet, so close he could kiss the toe of my boot. I instinctively recoil from him when his mouth opens to speak. "Master A, sir, I have escaped my previous master from a nearby town. I beg that you take me in; as slave, servant, cook, or foot rest! It doesn't matter which so long as I may stay within these walls!"

 

The surprise isn't getting any easier. "You expect me to go against your master!? Are you dull, boy? Law dictates that a master who finds or captures a runaway must return or report the slave to their owner. You think I'd break the law for a filthy thing like you?" His head is shaking almost imperceptibly as I speak, but I see it anyway and wait to hear what he has to say; intrigued by his bravery. 

 

"You said so yourself, Master A, that owning male slaves is illegal. You may turn me in but it would only result in his arrest, and I would be left to the streets. If you allow me to stay, not as a slave but as a servant, I would do anything you asked of me for the remainder of my life! I would be a slave in spirit but not in writing. It wouldn't be illegal, and you'd have yourself another set of capable hands." The boy maintains his deep, respectful bow, but the voice coming from the floor is solid and confident.

 

I chew on his words for a time, crossing and uncrossing my legs  so that my feet swing dangerously close to his head. He doesn't flinch at my intimidation. "You speak well, for a slave. Did your master have you educated?" The question seems to alarm him, as he stutters a moment and his posture wavers beneath me.

 

"N-no, sir- Master A, sir... I was educated before my master acquired me." It's a strange situation, and the more he speaks the more I dislike the unknown master of this unknown boy. He apparently has no regard for the laws of ownership, and I begin to consider the boy's proposal more seriously. If he is in fact educated, then passing him as a servant won't be too difficult. I have little use for him outside of a servant's duties; having plenty of women to fill my lusts. I glance over to Hanji, the only lifelong companion I have ever known or desired: the perfect servant who not only understands myself but chooses to stay by my side despite having opportunity to leave. He is surely insane, and surely that is the reason he and I can coexist.

 

This boy, I must wonder, would he be capable of meeting our joined expectations? Or will he run from here just as he did his old master? As if reading my thoughts in only the way Hanji can, he nods to me in assurance and agreement. He will take the boy.

 

"Perhaps it is that education that has saved you. You will stay." His head raises enough that his bright, watery eyes meet mine, and his expression baffles me. The large smile he gives me is full of honest relief and happiness, despite having just traded one master for a new, completely unknown one. "But know this, boy, that if you ever run from here you will be found, and you will not be left to the mercy of the law or the streets; but to a punishment of my own making the likes of which you have never seen."

 

He nods his head in sincere understanding, and I see that he believes me but he is not afraid. I ache to learn if such fearlessness is ignorance, or more likely, complete comprehension. "Hanji, take him with you. He'll spend the night with the girls after he's cleaned up. We'll arrange something more tomorrow. It's late." Hanji gives a deep bow, likely to appease my hunger for submission after the boy's challenging words, and leads him away. 

 

I sleep fitfully that night, waking often to growl angrily into the darkness, and alternating between too warm and too cool. At some point in the morning, the door creaks open quietly. Although I am awake, I have no desire to move yet and so I keep still. The sound of bare footsteps tapping lightly around the room is unusual, so I peek open an eye to try and catch sight of the offender. _Where is Hanji?_ When the boy appears near the window at the side of my bed, pulling the curtains back gently and filling my eyes with brightness, I am rudely reminded of the events of the previous night. I sit up and wave my hand in the direction of the tea tray he’s brought with him and wipe the sleep from my eyes while he carries it over. I glance over him when the cup is finally at my lips, and almost spit my tea back into the cup clumsily.

 

“What _on Earth_ are you wearing, boy!?” He looks a little nervous under my gaze, but doesn’t seem too uncomfortable in the white gown that is normally worn by my slaves. The fluttery lace trim stops around his knees, instead of the ankles, and the sleeves are certainly too tight. It’s almost comedic.

 

“It’s what I was given to wear, Master A.”

 

I pinch the bridge of my nose and hand him back the tea. “This tastes awful, boy.” He takes the cup and looks genuinely upset by my remark.

 

“My apologies, Master A. Hanji taught me this morning how to make it and insisted I brought it to you myself. I will ask him how I may improve immediately.”

 

“Do so.” I suppress an amused smile at the thought of Hanji; knowingly sending the boy to me with bad tea, likely hoping I will whip him into shape. But that is what I’ve assigned to him, and so I will ensure that Hanji takes responsibility. “You must call me Master Levi, boy, or just Master is acceptable. None of that ‘Master A’ business anymore; it’s repetitive and annoying.” He carries the tray to the table and sets it down gingerly.

 

“Yes, Master.”

 

I watch him stare around my room uncertainly before spotting what he’s searching for: my house clothes. With uncertain fingers trembling over my shoulders, he assists as I slide into the sleeves of my robe. He seems uncomfortable in the silence, for it only takes another minute before he feels the need to break it. “My apologies. It is a habit I will do my best to break.”

 

When my slippers are securely on my feet and my hair has been combed into place, I stand. “Why would calling me by a full title be a habit?”

 

“My previous master deemed it important to call all masters by a full title, including himself, at all times and practically every sentence. I couldn’t find your name anywhere outside, Master, but the large golden ‘A’ on your post box seemed important.”

 

I nod at his explanation as we walk to my chamber door. “You may call me Master Levi, if you want a full title, but do _not_ call me by my family name or any form of it. That is for business only. Now, what is your name, boy?”

 

His hand stops over the door handle and he looks at me with an expression of pure shock, and perhaps sadness. I watch him steadily, with the look of a Master who’s just asked their underling a question and expects a response. He hesitates a moment but finally concedes.

 

“It’s Eren, Master Levi. Eren Yaeger.” He opens the door and holds it wide, bowing deeply in my direction. His empty hand still trembles at his side in a tight fist. “Thank you for asking, Master.”

 

I ignore the strange behavior and we walk downstairs, where Hanji is just coming up with my tray. When he spots us, he looks flustered and gives me a bow. “My apologies, Master. There was a problem in the kitchen this morning. Would you still like to take your breakfast in your quarters?”

 

“On the veranda, Han. Fetch me a new novel, as well.” Hanji motions for the boy to stay at the bottom of the stairs and escorts me outdoors. When I’ve settled in to eat my breakfast in the morning sunlight, the slender servant turns to leave. “Hanji,” I stop him. “ _Why_ would you put the boy in a _dress!?_ ” He looks amused at my exasperation, even knowing how I could have reacted.

 

“After we cleaned him up I couldn’t just put him back in his filthy rags, sir. It was the dress or naked, and I didn’t think allowing a strange boy to sleep naked among your slaves was wise, Master.”

 

The imagery is amusing, yes, but seeing him in the dress that adorns my women of lust was not. I recall the clothes he had arrived in; a pair of paper thin short pants that hit his calves and a torn, muddy shirt that was probably once white but now looks grey-brown. I shutter when thinking about him wearing that again. “Find him something else. Perhaps something of yours could work.” Hanji is a few inches taller than Eren, but his slender frame should match well. I wonder briefly if he’ll be growing any more. “Do you know his age?” The long hair hanging behind him swings lightly when he shakes his head. “We’ll just have to hope he won’t grow much more.”

 

The day moves on surprisingly easily. It’s quiet and I have little work to bother with; the factory to the south has a capable staff and would rather run itself. Normally on a day like this, I would grow unbearably bored and the itching would start. That painful, inward itch in my stomach and heart that only the slaves can heal with their submission. When I don’t get rid of the sick feelings, they boil out, and I can never fully recall what happens afterwards. Today, however, I get through the afternoon without so much as a tickle; feeling instead like the pleasant calm of the summer breeze outside. Whenever I begin to feel irritable, the boy Eren will appear as a perfectly timed distraction; failing at yet another simple task and getting chided by Hanji behind him. His face never loses its stony determination, and no matter how many times he fails, his persistence stays.

 

A few days pass like this, with Eren failing each new task a few times before performing it perfectly. He is a fast learner and Hanji seems pleased. I have Eren tend to me for the full day after a while, to test his competence and to give Han some much desired rest. I see the way the other servants and maids look at him because of my favoritism; jealousy and anger that turns them ugly and pitiful. I know that my kindness to him is actually a curse. I know they make his life more difficult any time I try and make it easier. Eren’s presence may very well help us all, I start to think. The positive thoughts don’t persist. It doesn’t take long for the itch to come back.

 

It hits me suddenly one evening, like a stone in the pit of my stomach, and Eren chooses a poor time to appear before me. He’s outfitted in an old pair of Hanji’s slacks that I remember from years ago by the small hole in one of the shins that I used to despise. The shirt is a crisp white button-up that fits well, but he’s left the top button undone. Like the metaphoric final straw to my breaking camel’s back, it cracks something inside of me that I’ve been holding back this entire time. When he bends to unlace my boot, there in the darkness of my chamber before bed time, I can glimpse the skin of his collarbones and chest through the gap in the buttons. Without a moment of hesitation, my hand jerks back and comes across his face with a loud crack of thunder, and the sting of lightning remains in my palm. I watch as he stumbles to the side, thrown off balance and stumbling on his knees; a hand touching the red flesh tentatively.

 

I sit, silent and watching. What will he do? Will this first show of my true self send him running from here, only days after he’s begged me for refuge? His eyes are wide, but remain clear and strong when he looks first to my eyes, and then to my feet quickly. “I’m sorry, Master Levi! Please forgive me!” He throws his head down at my feet in the deepest bow he can manage, just like the first night we met. His head comes up and down in multiple small bows as he apologizes over and over, until I can’t stand it any longer. The foot still wearing a boot lands down atop his head and presses him into the lush carpet.

 

“You’ve no idea what you’re apologizing for, do you, servant?” My boot turns his head so that he can breathe but keeps him pressed to the floor with one ear down instead.

 

“No, M-master.”

 

Despite the grating of the rough sole of my heavy boot on his scalp, he shows no sign of feeling pain from it and only stares at his own hand to the side of his head; unable to move. I release his head, but he doesn’t move an inch, and only continues to apologize.

 

“Silence!” My voice echoes in the stillness of the room, and at the corner of my vision I see Hanji enter silently. He stands at the door with his hands clasped together, unmoving and indeed silent. I pull Eren to his feet. He stands steadily when most would tremble, and although his face is inches from my own, he knows to look anywhere but into my eyes.

 

My hand is bunched into the fabric of the offending shirt, holding him upright as well as holding closed the gap at the collar. I release it with a push and point to the undone buttons at the top. “ _That_ , you careless little _boy_ , is offensive to my eyes and marks you as a _slut_.” For the first time, he looks pained as his eyes trail down to his shirt. Hurt not by anything I’ve done, but what I’ve said, and I start to understand a little more about this mysterious slave. His hands are shaky as he buttons them up slowly, but he says nothing this time when he bends at the waist for an apologetic bow.

 

My breath is coming out in frustrated huffs, and I can feel sweat sticking my clothing and hair to my skin. Hanji moves now, walking quietly to Eren and leading him out with a hand on his shoulder. When Eren is outside the door, Hanji closes it and comes back to me, still standing in my spot by the bed. He takes the boy’s place in front of me, standing with his hands laced in front of him again and looking at me with those understanding eyes. I _hate_ it, but I only scowl and turn my head. Hanji is the one person I cannot physically hurt, although I can’t understand why myself. He knows this, but that is not why he doesn’t fear me when he places a hand on my shoulder tentatively.

 

“Master.” The hand squeezes slightly to get me to look back to him. “You cannot fault the boy for showing his skin. He does not understand why we wouldn’t want that… considering where he’s come from.” My servant speaks to me as a friend, in a moment when only we are present and only we will know. I hate to admit that I understand what he says, but he speaks the truth. I know it, and I knew it even when I lashed out at Eren.

 

“I couldn’t-… I was not able to stop myself.”

 

He nods, seeing what is within me. Knowing the truth that only we know; remembering the things that only we remember, from many years ago. His hand leaves my shoulder and he walks back towards the door to fetch Eren. “Wait,” I say, “I’d like you to assist me tonight. Not him.”

 

He bows with only his shoulders and says, “I thought so, Master.” His voice is light, trying to ease the heavy atmosphere. I wait while he speaks to Eren, barely above a whisper so that only the subtle tones and vibrations can reach me. I hear the now familiar footsteps recede down the stairwell, and Hanji returns to finish his duties. The itch stays dormant in my stomach, hardly appeased by the small outburst, like the timer to a stick of dynamite.


	3. The Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy's easy feelings were shattered.

**Chapter Three**

 

**The Boy**

 

My first night in Master's house was incredible, to say the least. From the clean, healthy look of the handsome servant who answered the door to the equally clean conditions of the house. I would have felt guilty for sullying the place had I not been running for my life. When I first heard Master's stony voice calling out angrily, all I could think was, _'This is it; he's here.'_ Adrenaline coursed through me when we spoke and he finally agreed to let me stay. It was so exhilarating that I could hardly think, and certainly not object when they sent me to sleep with the slaves. Not that I minded; my previous master had all of his slaves sleep together on the floor of his basement, using only a single thin mattress and one sheet to hold all five of us.

 

My feelings became even more confusing when Hanji led me to the bath. Not only did they  _want_  me to bathe regularly, but he even took the time to show me how clean I should be and helped me dress. Granted, it was an  _actual dress_  that I was wearing. Hanji looked a little apologetic, but I didn't mind. It wasn't the first time I had been made to dress as a woman; but I'm still quite thankful it was my last. All thanks to Master Levi.

 

The state of the slave's quarters was immaculate when compared to my previous residence; each slave got their own beds and blankets and we even had books! Imagine my delight! When I ran here to this mansion I knew exactly where I was going: the ruthless Master A that all the other residents feared. Looking at things from the inside paints a very different picture. This master treats his slaves much better than I've heard of any other master around. The first thing I did when directed to my bed was grab one of them from the small nearby shelf and flop down to immerse myself. Disappointingly, it contained only pictures.

 

I had ignored all strange and nervous looks from the girls in the room; eager to just get some rest, but quickly the moment was interrupted. "What are you doing here?" The voice of the girl in the bed beside me was small and came out raspy. When I looked up from my pictures I noticed immediately that her eyes were red and puffy, and her hair has been disheveled in the way that happens when you've been crying into a pillow or something. 

 

"Even if Hanji brought you, men aren't supposed to be here... even if they are dressed like  _that._ " A tall girl with brown hair and freckles says from the opposite wall. There's a girl in bed with her, hugging her around the waist and trying hard to ignore me completely.

 

"I'm a slave of Master A, just like all of you."

 

They looked shocked and appalled, and I could hear whispered protests among them. There were at least ten, maybe fifteen girls and I realized that my new master must be quite wealthy, even if his estate isn't much larger than others in town. It doesn't take long for them to realize on their own that I was the one ringing the bell and making a scene, and that I ran away. I only hoped they realize that I was running from something much worse than this place, and don't attempt to run themselves. I dodged a few questions and remarks until it came time for lights out, and we had to be silent. Although we each lay in our beds, most were awake and restless. Time passes and soon the sounds of heavy breathing took over the room, and that was when my neighbor spoke again.

 

"You awake?"

 

"Yes."

 

"You looked sad... when you picked up the book. Why?" Her voice was sweet like honey once the gravel had faded from it.

 

"There are no words; only pictures. I was hoping to read some."

 

The sheets of the bed rustled and I could see her faint outline staring at me. "You can  _read_?"

 

I instantly regret my answer. I didn't intend to let anyone else know how educated I am. "Uh... a bit. I was just hoping to practice, is all." My response seemed to warm her up to me. It was obvious neither of us would be sleeping well, so she joined me on my bed; sitting gingerly on the edge near my feet. We whispered about whatever came to mind, but the heaviness of our experiences made it difficult to act lightly. Soon, we were talking about the seriousness of our lives. I asked her why she had been crying, and she only mumbled something about 'usual slave duties' to be vague. I knew better, though. The way she flinched if anyone moved suddenly, and the way she seemed extra conscious of her frilly nightgown. "Are you in any pain?" I asked her as gently as I could. She nodded softly, and we both knew the pain she felt the most was in her heart. I gave her an understanding nod and made myself a promise: I would do my best to take the pain from her.

 

The next morning, Hanji arrived before the lights came on. I gave Petra, who had finally told me her name right before drifting to sleep, a light pat on the shoulder before following him downstairs. That was when he started my training, with little warning or explanation. Before I knew it, I was being handed the expensive looking kettle and various cans of tea leaves and spices. Hanji spat out ratio after ratio of different mixes the master likes and when he likes to have them. I dutifully prepared the one he mentioned as 'breakfast best', sweating nervously when he tried it. "Bitter." he tells me, but doesn't say if that's good or bad. I felt only his slender fingers pressing into my back as I am forced up the stairs to awaken our master. I had to listen carefully to Hanji as he quickly spat out what to do for this process, waiting for some reason until I was halfway up the stairwell to tell me.

 

The morning went well, surprisingly. Although master did indeed insult my tea, he didn't seem too bothered by it and even asked for my name. My name! It had been years since I'd gone by my own name, and it took a moment for me to fight back my tears. Eventually I meet again with my new teacher, Hanji, and he beckons me to follow him.  He leads me back to the kitchens, and even further behind them to a hallway used only by servants. The long, plain corridor leads us to even more steps which he explained to be the entrance to the Servant's Quarters. The basement level of the mansion is huge, and it's obvious that the place was built with the exact intent to house people here. Many dark halls leading to small rooms and closets crisscross around, and we had to take a few lefts and a right until we hit a plain wooden door wearing the name 'Zoe'.

 

Hanji's room is as plain as one could expect. There's only an unmade bed with plain linens, a small desk and chair littered with trash, and a dresser. I stood awkwardly in the doorway until he beckoned me in, throwing open a smaller door in the corner to reveal a closet. My jaw stood slack as I watched him fling piece after piece of wrinkled fabric out behind him, some landing atop his bed and others sliding across the floor. His untidy behavior shocks me, but as it’s his own personal space, I don’t think it matters. Eventually he found what he was looking for; a plain leather trunk one uses for travelling. That is when I obtained my first personal belonging since becoming a slave, those years ago. Not only does he give me the trunk, but all of the clothing inside it, as well as a pair of shoes; not having had any on my journey here. He seemed a bit upset to give the items away, but I gave my most sincere thanks and he has since shown no more objections.

 

I'm then given a  _room_. My  _own_  room, very near Hanji's and in a nice, quiet corner of the hall. The room had only a bed at the time, and the same small closet as Hanji's, but it was mine and I loved it more than anything I'd ever owned! I think I made a fool of myself that day; bouncing on the mattress as if it were made of sweets and wiping more tears from my eyes.  _My master is surely an angel come to earth,_ I thought. I now know that such a thought is the farthest thing from the truth; but I wouldn't change that first impression for anything.

 

As the days passed, Hanji would give me increasingly harder tasks and expect me to complete them with the same ease as before. Wanting nothing more than to prove my worth, I worked hard and did little I wasn't directly told to do. I don't recall eating for the first few days, until one of the cooks off-handedly asked why I hadn't been around at meal time. I told him I hadn't been told about my eating schedule and so he simply scoffed as if I were dull and began throwing food at me. I never got an apology from my teacher, but of course I'd never ask for one. When I wasn't learning something new, I was appointed the caretaker of the slaves for a short while. I was happy to get to speak with Petra again, as I felt we had some connection and she made me feel warmer when we spoke. I'd escort the girls to the washroom and help them dress, or bring them food with the help of the maids. I'd allow myself a few extra moments each day to speak with them and I found many of them warming up to me in time. I was happy here. Eventually I was spending more time as the master's immediate servant; in charge of delivering his meals, fetching paperwork and supplies, and helping him dress. It was during one of those times when I unknowingly made my first real mistake. Due to my carelessness, I caused the master a great deal of upset, and will never forgive myself or forget it.

 

The feeling of being on the floor was familiar. The foot scraping at my scalp and tugging my hair, a normalcy. It was the complete regret and guilt I felt in my heart that was new. I didn't want to defy Master Levi. I didn't want his distrust. I wanted to be his perfect servant until my life gave out; even if by his very hands. I felt no physical pain from his outburst, and it was easy to keep my wits about me. I had years of practice, after all. As I stood outside his chamber door, the aftermath of hurt over my heart, I listened in on him and Hanji. Although the words didn't reach me, the softer tones he spoke with did. Hanji was able to reach him in a way that I envied. That was when I knew how I would take the pain from Petra; from all of the slaves. I knew what I had to do.

 

-

 

It wasn't a full day later that Master finally took his first slave since my arrival. Hanji had warned me of it; had known it was coming. From what I understood of the night I arrived, he wasn't as harsh as he had been with Petra. For that I was grateful. The familiar sounds of sex could be heard through the walls next door to the entertainment room they occupied. The girl was silent at first, but eventually began to moan and gasp until the master had finished. They sent me to collect her and help her clean up. Master Levi always takes his slaves alone, one at a time and in a private place. What he does with them behind the walls is no secret, but it is private in a way that many slaves don't get. I appreciate that about him. I only needed to see the aftermath of the session, and not the exact actions that caused each bead of sweat or misplaced hair, and it made the process of taking care of the girls much easier. 

 

I quickly found that the more I displeased the master and received his anger, the less he would hurt the girls when he took them. I didn't want to upset him, not only for fear of being cast out but for fear of his disapproval if I stayed. When I weighed the two together, I never came to a good conclusion, and thus had locked myself in constant inner turmoil. Will this last failure mean the end of me just so a girl doesn't get beaten tonight?

 

It was ten days after my arrival, and although I had done many things to upset Master Levi, I was no closer to being cast out. My spirits were high, and the girl's seemed to be catching on. They praised me in hushed whispers and hugged me tightly when given the chance. I was elated. These weren't just fellow sufferers, they were becoming friends. I was in their joined chamber, passing out clean linens for their beds and helping them clean up when the doorbell sounded through the evening quiet. Hanji was down the hall, tending to a girl in the washroom, and called out for me to answer. If only I had known then; somehow sensed that the other side of that door was evil itself, I would have begged Hanji to get it himself.

 

I didn't know, of course. My elation was making me lax, and it became all too easy to forget that I was in hiding. I shouldn't be answering the door when I am not willing to even step outside. My feet flew happily down the stairs and I bounded to the door, ready to please. Ready to be the best servant. As my hand inched slowly to the door handle, however, a cold dagger ran down my back. Something inside me clicked and I remembered; guests didn't come to Master A's mansion uninvited. He was feared, and only accepted invited guests for business matters. Whoever was on the other side of this door was just as desperate as I had been; or perhaps ignorant. The doorbell sounded again and a knock echoed through the great foyer. I brought my shaking hand from the metal handle to the thin window beside the door, pulling the lace curtain to the side only far enough to see out without calling attention to myself. The man outside sent a second cold dagger through me, this one to my heart.

 

My feet backpedaled with stone-heavy steps. The well-built blonde man on the other side of the door was knocking again, and his heavy fists shook the wood. I turned to run, flying past Hanji and Master Levi as they come to investigate the disturbance. I think I managed an apology, but I can’t be sure. The doorbell sounded once more as I dashed into the foyer closet, slamming the door behind me tightly and burying myself in the musty coats hanging there. My breathing felt impossibly thick, and I know that when the front door opens the man will hear my heartbeat and smell my sweat. I will be taken away; back to that awful house and that awful man. Even the protection of the feared Master A is not enough to save me.

 

"Master A! Good evening, sir. I am terribly sorry for the disturbance-" The familiar voice comes through the closet wall, and confirms all of my fears. The heart pounding against my chest didn't even feel like my own. I struggled to hear them over the sound of it, and had to force myself to calm before I could make out any of the conversation.

 

"A boy, you say?" His acting was perfect, and I sighed a great breath of relief.  _He's really going to cover for me? After all of the trouble I've caused?_   "I'm sure you are aware, sir, that I get few visitors here. Especially children."

 

"I see. That's quite a disappointment. My master is very distraught, you see, the boy is his only heir and seems to be rebelling. He's soon to be seventeen, and has green eyes with dark hair. We'd greatly appreciate it if you will let us know should you come across anything."  _Lies!_  My fear quickly turned to rage at the blatant falsity. It took everything I had not to leap from the closet and attack him, but then I heard my master's voice again; clearly playing along with complete indifference.

 

"What a vague description. How will we know for sure if we see him?"

 

There was a still silence for a time and I began to worry what may have been happening, but the man speaks again in the voice that sends ice through me. "Here is his full description. He may attempt to...  _bribe_ you into keeping him. If this happens, you can confirm everything I've stated by the house mark he carries. You will be greatly compensated should you assist in his return." The words were muffled but clear enough. They were trying desperately hard to get me back.

 

The man is dismissed and a moment passes before the closet door is ripped open. Master Levi held a crumpled piece of paper in one hand, and the other drags me violently from my hiding spot; practically throwing me into every corner we pass on the way to his chamber. My feet tripped painfully over each step up the stairs. His grip on my arm will bruise for days, and the silence that accompanied his stone-cold expression was more terrifying even than the thought of the man at the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is NSFW (as in more so than any so far, if you consider these NSFW as well idk)


	4. The Controlled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master was surprised to find he never really had control to begin with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super NSFW stuff ahead.

**Chapter Four**

 

**The Controller**

 

I wasn't in control. That was the problem, I realized; deep down. Somewhere along the timeline of my life I had become obsessed with it: order, control, and dominance. Each and every day I would center myself within these things. Not just because I became the master of a wealthy house, but because without it I would surely crumble. It was instinctual and compulsive. I had this realization that evening. It was the first time Eren and I had sex.

 

-

 

 _That shit-eating, law-breaking, disrespecting bastard!_ My thoughts are running rampant as I pull the boy along, quite intentionally swinging his clumsy frame into the walls as I go. I'm vaguely aware that some of my more prominent curses are said aloud, and I spit venom each and every time. Eren looks terrified of what awaits him.  _Good,_ I think instinctively.

 

As soon as we've entered my chamber, I kick the door shut behind us, and lock it to prevent interference. Although Hanji has the key, he knows better than to use it now. My hands, which are again fisted into that same white button-up shirt, are covered in cold sweat and bulging veins. I take deep breaths as I speak to keep my voice low and finally look into his wide, uncertain eyes.

 

"He...  _marked..._  you?" The words are not dissimilar to the growl of an angry beast. Eren's head nods quickly, but he does not speak. His eyes are fixed on my own; something no other servant or slave would dare do. I can see that he is cautious, perhaps fearful of me... but not of pain; of what he feels is worse. His nearly imperceptible glances towards the door tell me enough: he fears that man, his old master, and my rejection. The anger boils over my insides. " _Where!?_ "

 

The hands buried in his shirt become claws, tearing at the gaps between buttons until they pop off loudly and the whole mess lay on the floor. There are a few plain scars adorning his skin, some red and new; others so faint I'd miss them in passing. Otherwise, there is no identifiable mark that would lead me to his former master. His hands finally find the will to move and reach up in a poor attempt at modesty, likely recalling the last time I glimpsed his skin.  _This is not the same. This time I am in control._ With swift motion, I easily snap the thin thread of the button holding his pants; the zipper easily sliding open as the fabric drops to the floor. Again, faint scars, but no mark. "Where is it, boy!? Where did he mark you?" I can see in every shiver of his skin that he knows my rage; has seen it countless times on different faces. He wants to answer me but his lips freeze together in a tight line. His cheeks blush with shame I never thought he would possess as a slave. 

 

 _He doesn't want me to see the mark._  The hesitancy makes the boiling anger rush into my windpipe.  _No. I am not in control... I must find control!_

 

With his front exposed and found empty, I turn him sharply. He gasps in surprise as his body obeys before he's even aware. Another gasp escapes him as his chest hits my soft mattress with contrasting roughness. Eren doesn't move, although I approach him slowly; letting my eyes fall over his back and legs in search of the marking. Still, I find nothing.

 

The visitor's words come to mind.  _He may try to_ bribe _me?_

 

I see. The mark is somewhere quite private.  _That primitive fuck._  My hands are trembling now, but I cannot stop now. “Slaves…” I begin in a quiet whisper and slide my fingers under the elastic of his underwear, “are not to be marked, Eren.” I whisk them to his ankles and rip them from his feet. I fight the urge to cringe away; a reflexive response I'd managed to forget. I hear a small whimper of surprise muffled by the mattress, and refocus. His skin has always been pale in the way skin gets when deprived of the sun for too long. That pale skin now takes over my sight; Eren’s full nudity is bent over my bed. He holds his hands together above his head without direction, and it occurs to me that this is  _his_  territory: a male slave, naked in the presence of his male master, unflinching in the face of anything to come and playing the perfect submissive. Where he was trembling and nervous before, he lays quiet and still now. As if he has adopted the calm before the storm unto himself.

 

“There’s nothing left to hide from me, Eren. Show me the mark.” My voice remains quiet and commanding, but I cannot stop the trembling anger within it. I am not angry with Eren, no. I am angry at the man who so blatantly breaks the law. Laws imposed upon the people to maintain  _order_.

 

The basic laws of ownership are simple: Slaves are meant to be only female, as men are meant to work in support of their kin and country, or fight its wars when necessary. Slaves are not to be marked, as they should be made available for buying and selling at all times, with respect to your fellow masters. Slaves are only those born by a slave, as the kidnapping or demeaning of a non-slave is considered immoral.

 

The boy before me has revealed little, but enough. Eren was not born in poverty; was made an illegal male slave by some means and then marked, made to never escape or forget what he was or who made him that way. The man responsible not only shows no remorse in this but has the audacity to send his servants door to door in search of his runaway. Is this ignorance or arrogance? The thoughts only churn my emotions higher and higher.

 

On tentative, trembling arms, Eren’s body lifts from the mattress and he flips to his back. I watch his chest rise and fall, heavy with emotions he refuses to show on his face. Each thin hand slides down his torso, and finds purchase behind his knees; pulling them up in what is certainly meant to be a demeaning and relinquishing pose. His eyes look into mine and his cheeks glow hot, yet my own eyes aren’t meeting his solidly. Instead, they can only search him from head to bottom. I absorb his sun-deprived skin marred with various scars; accept the way his ribs show just slightly from under-nourishment; even invite the scrapes around his shins from his recent escape to imprint upon my mind. Each detail will never leave me.

 

With this inspection, I finally see. He is not just spreading his legs as a slave but obediently obeying my command. He has shown me the mark. His legs are open wide to reveal the small circular brand, an ugly red-brown that stands out easily. Perhaps an inch in diameter and placed carefully along his inner right thigh; high up on the sensitive skin by his scrotum. I can nearly feel the pain in my own privates as I see it. It shows a perfectly cursive _'R'_ , but the small letters or words around the circular outside are blurred by the scarring way it was made.

 

"What has he done to you?" My voice comes out in a whisper so strained that I hardly hear it myself. My throat has gone tight. The skin is soft as I trail each fingertip over his thighs and buttocks. This slave- No, Eren- has been treated worse than any I've ever witnessed. Despite that, he holds onto a strength so stubborn it shows in the very way he walks. I am reminded of that now, as those strong eyes look directly into my own with surprise. He seems almost calmed by my reaction; his cheeks are returning to their usual hues and the nervous breathing has slowed. 

  

Witnessing this boy, nearly a man, naked and spread before me makes something snap within me. His sullied purity calls it forth. Somewhere inside, I hear a voice easily mistaken as my own. ‘ _Show your skin to me, boy, and I will consider it a gift. Show your heart to me, boy, and I will consider it a weakness. Show your tears to me, boy, and I will consider it a curse.’_  The hole below the mark stands open and inviting under my touch; evidence of the abuse by his former master, no doubt. 

 

His strength in even this moment is admirable, and I envy it. For it is strength I once prayed for every night, and strength that never came; until my belief in the God had gone. The depreciating thoughts start a new turmoil within me. The boy looks _desirable_ , and I feel my body begin to respond to the sight before me. My mind fights it stubbornly, _‘You are not the monster your neighbors believe you to be’_ , until the twisted me wins over, _‘But you are a monster of his making, afterall’_.

 

 

As seems to happen often since my late uncle’s passing, I feel my control slipping again. I order Eren not to move, even knowing I needn’t say a word. As if watching myself from somewhere above, my legs walk me to my closet and my hands retrieve the trunk keys. It unlocks with three familiar, pleasant clicks, and from it I retrieve my favored ropes.

 

He doesn’t even flinch when I tie his hands tightly above his head and secure them to one of the corner posts. His eyes no longer meet mine, and I suspect that he is drifting elsewhere behind them; much like myself. We have switched off and something new has taken over. The angry, controlling person inside me wants to see him break. It begs for his total submission: the skin, the heart, and the tears. He must give it all or I must take it, until that sick voice is quieted.

 

My anger subsides somewhere in the middle; satiated by Eren's perfect acquiescence under my rough thrusting. He lays below me with hands stretched taught above his head, rocking with each easy movement. The room smells of sexed sweat and the flower-scented oil now slicking Eren's hole. His voice comes out in grunts with little whispered gasps; not the erotic moans I get from the women but somehow still very enticing. I drink in the sight and sounds of him with my newly calmed mind and grasp the soft skin of his hips tightly, slamming into him roughly with my hard cock. The slapping of skin hitting wet skin mixes with the sound of gasps between us perfectly.  _Why isn’t he crying!?_  They always cry. I feel simple in my lack of understanding.

 

 

I never imagined finding pleasure in a man, and likely would never have tried if not for my angry outburst. Although his physique doesn't light any particular fire within me, his demeanor certainly does. The way he has given himself fully to me without hesitancy; the way his body accepts me so easily. The muscles deep inside of him clench around me tighter, and his legs spread wide in welcome while his toes curl. The only part of him seeming to fight the pleasure would be his own half-flaccid cock resting atop his stomach. The resistance only encourages me, and I am surprised at my desire to please him.

 

 

I lift his hips from the bed and angle myself with precision. His back lifts of its own accord when the pleasure hits in its fullest form and I smirk arrogantly. The sensation has reached even his protesting member now. I watch it lengthen and harden until it stops at its peak, just under the navel. Eren's legs wrap around me tightly, bringing me to my senses long enough to see his eyes; now looking quite surprised and uncertainly joyful.

 

 

"Wh-what... is-  _ah!_  -that?" He speaks for the first time through a breathy moan, and although I would prefer no discussion, I realize it is my own fault for not covering his mouth. I answer.

 

 

"That-" I thrust into it again forcefully and stop, letting the head of my cock press upon the spot firmly, "-is your prostate." My hips begin moving again in even rhythm, determined to finish this sooner rather than later. "Has no one ever fucked you properly, _slave?_ ” The words are harsh through my grunts and meant to remind him of the situation, but I don't see any indication that he's even listening. His eyes are watching the vulgar spot where our bodies meet, and following his bobbing erection. His voice grows into a loud moan quickly at the sight.

 

 

My own eyes follow his gaze and I push his knees up and apart with my hands to gain a better view. I cannot believe the effect it has on me; that the body of a man could cause me to pant and moan until I’ve lost my breath. The sight of my member stretching him open each time I plunge deeper sends pleasurable shivers down my spine. I'm quickly reaching my peak, and I judge by the sounds of his lewd noises that he is close as well. “Oh, _fuck…!_ ” His hands are struggling against their bondage, but I do not release him. I may be losing my own control, but I will not lose his.

 

 

With a wave of hot, aggressive lust, I pound the tight muscles once, twice, three times before filling him with every last drop of cum. My body is shaking from the exertion and I must stop; staying still above him to catch my breath. He gives a frustrated groan, tickling my ear with his hot breath, and then another as I pull out agonizingly slowly.

 

 

Eren doesn't attempt to move as I take my time dressing and fixing my hair. Once my fingers have stopped their trembling I untie his rope and ring Hanji's bell. Immediately, the lock on my door clicks and he enters, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "Help Eren clean up and fetch him some new clothing, Han." My voice is strangely calm and quiet now that the turmoil previously controlling me has faded. He nods and begins to walk past me, but I stop him with a weakened hand on his shoulder. "When he's calm, bring him back here. I need to speak with him more... peacefully." I speak directly into his ear so that I will not be overheard. Hanji's look is unreadable when he leads Eren from the room, covered by nothing but a towel. I note on his way past that his erection is still quite present, bobbing freely behind the cloth. The heat still remains in his cheeks, and he avoids meeting my eyes.

 

_And now, what have I done to you?_

 

-

 

An hour or so passes, which I use to properly clean myself and change my clothing. The maid, Annie, tends to my bedding and gathers up Eren’s discarded clothing. I ignore her icy glare when she realizes she will need to mend them. Her rudeness is allowed on special circumstance, with certain understandings that only we may know. Much like Hanji, Annie has become one of the ‘charity’ endeavors I allowed during a moment of weakness. I sigh at that lesser side of myself and she exists.

 

I settle into my favorite chair in the corner of the room, with a book in hand and the window open to allow the night breeze in. Hanji knocks minutes later, and I send him away once Eren stands before me with clean skin that seems to shine. _Or is that my own imagination?_

 

“Hello, Eren. Please, sit.” I motion to the second chair across from me, with a small tea table between us. He sits without a word, looking awkward and out of place. I allow the silence to linger while I gather myself for the conversation to come.

 

My impulsive behavior has certainly landed me in tight situations before, but this romp with Eren has dislodged something. Something I cannot ignore. _Why did I suddenly desire him, when I had decided I did not desire men? Why did I recall those things from long ago, when I had decided to forget them? Why do I feel so guilty, when I decided that guilt was useless?_

 

“Eren…” I begin tentatively. My voice does not carry the confidence I so desperately want it to. “I regret the events of this evening. You must know that, first and foremost.”

 

His eyebrows rise with the unexpected statement. “Master?” The hint of sadness in his voice makes little sense to me. _Shouldn’t he be happy?_

 

“I accepted you here as a servant, not a slave. Tonight, I took you to my bed as I would a slave, and for that I was wrong.” My hands wring together in the lap of my crossed legs, but he continues only to look confused, and a little disappointed. “I was not in control of myself. My anger for your former master’s actions had disturbed me.” A small knock at the door interrupts me and Hanji enters with a tray of tea. There is only one cup, and the scent is of my favorite calming blend. “A cup for Eren, as well, Han.” He looks comically disbelieving, but retreats to fetch one immediately. Once Eren has the warming tea grasped in his fingers, I dismiss Hanji for the rest of the evening.

 

“M-master… if I may?” I am not certain if he asking for permission to drink or to speak, but I nod my head and get my answer. He sips it tenderly once before beginning. “Master Levi, sir… I- I don’t know what to say. I told you when I arrived that I would obey you unconditionally for the remainder of my life. I meant it. Do not regret what happened.” I see him bite his tongue to cut himself off before speaking too casually.

 

“My point in bringing you here to sit with me, Eren, is to treat you more respectfully. Yes, you were once a slave, but you won’t be anymore. You have a name now, which I will use, and certain freedoms and luxuries that I am content to offer you. Although my anger may take hold of me at times, I hope that all of my staff can understand that it is _not_ me. You can be happy here.” The words flow from me as they come to mind; unable to keep them in. I try to end my small speech with finality and command in my voice, but it comes out a bit choked. “You will _not_ be returning to that man. Stop fearing my scorn.”

 

Our cups have emptied, but Eren’s fingers still grip his until they turn white. He looks to me again for permission to speak, and I give my consent. “Master, I am truly grateful for what you have said to me. But-“ I watch him take a deep breath and release his teacup to the tray, “-I will not be happy, sir, as long as slavery exists in the world.” His eyes are looking sadly at me, with the watery coldness that has grown so familiar.

 

I take a moment to weigh my emotions. Eren’s situation has awoken something I’ve chosen to ignore. He has turned my beliefs inside-out, in a way, and now I must decide how much I care about his thoughts and opinions. “What would you have me do, Eren? The enslavement of women is as old as time. As a Master, I am expected to uphold the traditions. All that I may do is give them a better home here than elsewhere, like I am attempting with you.” My admittance is difficult. If an outsider were to hear that a Master has misgivings, they would surely bring this house’s end. Regardless, I strangely want Eren to stay here with his strong eyes and his stubborn heart; happily.

 

He sits up straighter now, as if he is summoning his courage. “Master! Please stop harming them when you… _take_ them! Please try to think of them a little more; they also have names just as I do. The girl you last opened your trunk with… her name is Petra, and she is very kind to me.” The last part makes his voice shake with emotion, yet his back remains straightened into a tight line.

 

“Eren… I have explained to you that I do not want to do those things. It is my _anger_ -“

 

“Hurt me instead!” He nearly yells his interruption, looking mortified at himself as soon as he realizes what he has done. “M-master, I mean- I-“ His nervous stumbling is enough to force me to wait. “-I can handle it, sir. I can handle the pain, so… whenever you feel the urge and you can’t stop it, call upon me. I will take it in their place!” His knees shake as they lower to the floor in a deep bow. “I would be happier to serve that purpose for the remainder of my life, than to sit idly by while they endure those things.”

 

It strikes me then that he is protective of them because he empathizes with them. Unlike Hanji, who would never understand their struggles so deeply; and unlike myself, who understands both being the monster and its victim; Eren is somewhere in between. Eren is our missing link. I wonder how he could hold onto such a moral standing after being abused for so many years.

 

The room has a chill in the air now, and I close the window above in an attempt to warm us again. “What is it that caused you to run, Eren? For someone so persistent, you seem quite weak when it comes to that man.”

 

The chill in the room only grows worse with my question. He tightens visibly from his spot on the floor, but relaxes when I motion him back into his seat. “He… he was going to kill me, Master Levi… on my seventeenth birthday.” His voice is shaking through the words, and my heart has gone still. “Just like he killed the others…”

 

I don’t wait to hear more. Any more, and I would lose control to the anger again. “When is your birthday, Eren?” I cut him off and he stares at me again with surprise.

 

“N-next week, Master.”

 

With a nod, I move on in my distraction from the former subject. “We have an agreement, then. I will call upon you any time I begin to feel the anger, and I will not harm the girls.” I extend my hand in a tight, mechanical way, and he takes it with both of his gentle, shaky ones. We shake them a few small times, all the while Eren remains emotionally disheveled and speechless. “Here is the official welcome into your master’s house.”


	5. The Greedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy had discovered something deep within himself. Something only our master could give him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. 1k+ hits now. That is awesome. Thank you so much to those reading and supporting this story!  
> I know that 1k hits doesn't seem like much to most people, but as my only other fic hasn't hit that in it's year-long life, it is a new feeling for me! I am really very thankful for all of the comments. If you enjoy this story even a bit, please leave me a comment and let me know what you think. Good or bad, or anything in between.  
> <3
> 
> P.S. I swear my other fic isn't terrible, it's just not in a popular category (Levi/Original Male OC isn't in high demand, exactly). It's also extremely slow build, which is like, the opposite of this... so... oh well xD

**Chapter Five**

 

**The Greedy**

 

It would be days before Master made good on our arrangement. For the first few evenings he would sit quietly on his own, in his office or his bedroom and seem pensive. Eventually he began to look tired and dreary in that bored way I've come to recognize and he called upon Petra again.

 

This was shocking, you see, because Master does not take a slave again once they've cried in his presence. Or so I was told. Normally he would arrange a deal with the brokers and the slave would be sold off to an interested party. Petra's time was expected to be short, and none could hide their surprise when I ushered her from the 'dorms' and into the washroom.

 

"Eren," She says to me as the white fabric of her dress hits the ornate tiled floor.

 

"Hmmm?" I slip a bookmark into my book, gifted to me by Teacher Hanji, and look into her worried eyes.

 

Her cheeks redden and she turns, stepping into the large ceramic tub now full of scalding hot water. "Am I pretty, do you think? Be honest."

 

"You are quite beautiful, Petra. No doubt that is what has earned you our Master's favor." I don't honestly know if Petra is beautiful; I've never been particularly attracted to anyone in my life. But I know that she is sweet and earnest, with all of the features people normally compliment.

 

"What do you think that favor has earned me in return?" Her voice is cold and growing distant. "After the last time... all I can see of him is rage. He was so... frightening; nothing like his usual self. It was like he'd switched places with a monster." Despite the hot water turning her skin red, she rubs the goose pimples from her arms. "And all because he was _bored?_ I've no idea what to expect of this evening, Eren, but it can't be good."

 

I let her words hang in the air, awaiting some comforting thoughts to come to me. I know that Master Levi has promised not to harm any of them again, and I want to trust his word. I also want Petra to see with her own eyes the side of master that I have glimpsed; the man who feels guilty and reluctant, and the man who would ask for a mere slave's name; things that my previous master had no room for in his vile mind.

 

"I think... there is something within Master Levi. Something dark and shameful that he can't help but to harbor. I also think that he can fight it- _wants_ to." With steady movement, I slip to the side of the tub and help Petra wash her hair. The soap bubbles float out from the strands, made silky under the water and tangle-free. When her ears have resurfaced I resume. "You've asked me about my previous master, and I haven't told you anything of significance. But I will tell you now." She steps out onto a plush floor mat and I help her towel dry.

 

"You suddenly seem so serious... you're making me nervous, Eren."

 

I toss the towel atop her head and begin rubbing her hair dry, a bit more forcefully than usual in an attempt at playfulness. "You started it." She laughs and shoves my hands away. A quiet moment falls over us as I comb her hair gently, letting the long locks fall over her shoulder blades. "My previous master... he would hurt us. Not like Master Levi, who seems to build up his emotions until he can't help it, but rather as a heartless man who truly enjoyed it. He would hurt us every day regardless of whether or not he fucked us. For any reason, really, but mostly just because he enjoyed the power he had over us. I believe our master is quite different, and I hope you will be able to see that." 

 

Now clean and dressed, Petra and I stand at the doorway- the threshold that divides our private moments and conversations from the rest of the prying eyes in the house. "I hope so, too."

 

-

 

I spent the next hour pacing about the halls in nervous fits. Hanji gave me a simple job to do but within minutes I had abandoned and forgotten the work in favor of nursing my turmoil. All I could think about was Petra and Master. Would he keep his promise? Would she manage to stay strong? When she sees Master's other sides, will she start to enjoy it...? My thoughts make my insides hurt with unfamiliar emotion until finally the door to the entertainment room opens and the bell sounds. The high chime belongs to Teacher's bell and not my own, however, and I duck behind a nearby bookcase.

 

I feel the soft rumble of their voices through the wall. It would seem all is calm and the tension fades from my shoulders. A moment passes and I hear Teacher's voice from the other side of the bookcase saying, "Eren." I peek around to meet his knowing and irritated gaze.

 

"Y-yes... Hanji, s-sir?"

 

"Please refrain from being a nuisance and help me prepare master's meeting room. We are expecting a business guest."

 

The day was full of surprises, I noticed.

 

I follow Teacher into the large room near the front of the house and we begin dusting the old furniture, having grown filthy in the weeks of neglect. The old vases and decorative antiques take great care and time to clean, so after a bit we are joined by Annie and another maid, who help us finish the job quickly. After spraying a light, flowery perfume around and setting the low coffee table with refreshments I am led back into the hall where we wait near the door.

 

"Eren, this meeting is important. I need you to stay attentive and silent. We will remain in the room, but must not be distracting. We are shadows. Understand?"

 

"Yes, sir..." My hesitation is obvious, and he awaits my continuation. "I just wonder why we are allowed to listen to such a proceeding? Wouldn't servants normally be sent away and called when needed?" I scratch nervously at the nape of my neck and try to stop my feet from shuffling. 

 

"Master has requested our presence so that we may tend to any needs immediately. This is a very important guest. That is all we need know." Anything more that he would say is interrupted by the sound of the bellowing doorbell. I maintain my spot paces behind him at all times as we answer and usher the man in. He is short, even shorter than Master, and very round with the plump fat of the many nobles of the Capital. We move easily to the meeting room located just off of the foyer and near the closet I'd only recently used as a hiding place. The thought still sends shivers down my spine, thinking how close I'd come to returning to my old life.

 

Once the man has settled I am instructed quietly to remain near the door until further instruction. Hanji leaves and I am left to brood. The fat man sips the tea we've prepared and addresses his servant, who accompanied him in as silently as a mouse. "You may wait in the hall, Jean." The man, very close to my own age, bows and turns to leave obediently. On his way past I am gifted with a disgruntled frown, and I'm sure I hear a small growl come from him.

 

_Is he jealous that I get to stay while he must leave?_ The thought amuses me, although it only makes the situation stranger. After a few minutes of continued silence, the man looks to me and speaks in his gravelly voice. "You there, boy. You look capable. Tell me, are you skilled with a needle and thread?"

 

The question is odd, and causes me to hesitate even more than my uncertainties. Teacher left me with no more instruction than to be silent and invisible. Being left alone with this man practically forces us to interact and makes it impossible to remain unnoticed. I curse Hanji inwardly and answer nervously. "N-no sir, I wouldn't say skilled. I haven't done any mending in years. If you've need of such skills, please allow me to call upon our house seamstress."

 

"No, no, that won't be necessary. I've ripped a pair of trousers and my servant, Jean, is new. I was hoping you'd be able to teach him a trick or two, being that you two are so similar in age. Seems I'll just have to wait a few days until we return home." His hand waves the subject off and he sighs sadly. _I wonder how they ripped, you fat fuck..._ Sarcasm comes instantly although my nervousness in conversing with the important noble hasn't lessened.

 

"My apologies, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you while you wait?"

 

"You could tell me how much longer I'll have to wait for your master, boy. Any longer and I'll surely pass."

 

_You got that right,_ I think to myself, cringing at his rolls of extra skin as he sips more tea. A few moments pass and I am saved from answering by the arrival of my mentor and master entering together quietly.

 

Master offers his polite apologies and they exchange pleasantries as if they're old friends. The man mentions the former Master Ackerman, and my master waves him on with vague remarks before changing the subject. Eventually they cut the small talk and the atmosphere shifts to the serious conversations that I have trouble keeping up with.

 

“Your factories overseas have grown significantly in recent years, Levi. I think it’s about time you accepted some of my generous offers.” His eyebrow lifts while he maintains an air of light playfulness, but the implications don’t slip past even myself.

 

“Thank you for noticing, sir, but I hardly think a man in your position would be in need of some small textile houses. Surely you have better businessmen in need of your money.” My master’s blunt reply sends obvious annoyance over the man, but little can be said in reply without dropping the polite pretenses.

 

“I know that you have changed a great deal of your business policies in the time since your uncle’s passing, but I can only hope you will one day see the benefits of routine buying and selling. Nothing comes from sitting still when you’re holding a flush. Wouldn’t you rather trade until you’ve gone royal?”

 

I miss my master’s reply as I notice their cups have emptied and move silently and slowly to pour them each another round. From the corner of my vision I can see Master Levi watching me intently as I do so. I don’t spill a drop, much to my relief, and take the teapot with me to the door. As I exit silently to refill it in the kitchens with a fresh brew, I see the servant Jean standing awkwardly by the foyer staircase. This one leads to the guest rooms, which are on the second floor but completely separate from the girl’s dorm and only accessible from this one entrance.

 

“Are you getting tea? Can I come with?” He looks pitifully bored, and doesn’t hide his disdain at having to ask me for a distraction.

 

“Sure.” As we refill the pot with a new blend, one I know will help the master remain level-headed for his meeting, we have a casual conversation. Jean’s negativity has apparently spawned from his ‘extreme dislike’ towards his new master. He seems to feel his exclusion from the meeting means that he isn’t a good servant. _And this is my problem, how?_

I quickly grow tired of the man’s childish jealous insecurities and return to my master’s side. I pour them each a fresh cup using the new blend and return to Hanji, who gives me a nod of approval that causes me to smile. For once, my hard work is recognized and I can feel accomplished.

 

Each new conversation seems to return back to the man’s desire to purchase something from Master Levi, be it a factory or a slice of land, or even a member of his staff. “That boy there looks promising. Where’d you get him? Been looking for a young and capable one to keep around until I’m old, you know. That one in the hall just isn’t working out. How much for him?” My eyes go wide in obvious horror, and before I can stop myself I’ve shaken my head violently in objection. The motion does not go unnoticed. “Ahh, attached to your roots, eh, boy?” He looks amused yet unrelenting, staring at my master in search of an answer.

 

“Much like the rest of my property, sir, Eren is not for sale.” His eyes are a cold grey that pierce the fat man’s bulk easily.

 

“Servant’s aren’t property, Levi. I am only offering you money for him as incentive. I could easily offer him the money outright, and take him along with me.

 

Master’s hand waves nonchalantly in my direction and his cold eyes begin to look amused. “Go ahead then.” I am shocked at the turn of events, and nearly stumble in place when the man turns to me expectantly.

 

“How about it, boy? I’ll pay you double what Levi gives, and guarantee your position for life.”

 

Master looks directly into my eyes, but his face is calm and shows no indication of his expectations. I look nervously to Hanji who merely looks surprised and amused. He gives me a nod, as if encouraging me to take the offer. _As if!_ The offer needs no consideration. My resolve has always been the same.

 

“Thank you very much for your compliment, and your offer, sir, but I must decline. My place is here in this house, and no amount of money would persuade me otherwise.” He looks genuinely upset, while the others look knowingly pleased. With that, the man decides to take his leave, making sure to be rude and disrespectful the entire way out of the door. When Hanji and I have been left to clean up, I glance at him for the first time since the strange occurrence and see that he is smiling slightly as he works. “What is it, sir? I’m very confused by this entire day and would love to know if I’ve been left out of some large joke. This very important meeting was nothing but our master denying that greedy man over and over again, and I feel like I’ve become something amusing to you all.” I know that I am speaking out of turn, but my confusion and shock are controlling me now. Hanji continues to look amused and shakes his head slightly as I speak.

 

“You’re not the butt of a large joke, Eren. We are simply pleased with your response. That man is an old acquaintance of the late Master Ackerman, and Levi absolutely detests him. He only comes here looking to throw his money about in an attempt to get under our master’s skin, so that one day if the master should fail he can attempt to take control. That is the type of man that Master Ackerman was, and the company he kept. It was important because he needs constant reminders that our master is doing well on his own and that his money has no power here. In the world of the rich, these connections and formalities are important to upkeep, but that does not mean we need to be completely kind with one another. Your refusal was the perfect end to the meeting.” His explanation placates me, and I find that I am smiling along with him as I work. As the sun begins its decent we finish and move on to serving Master Levi his dinner.

 

He pats the corners of his mouth gently with a crisp, clean napkin and addresses me once he’s finished the meal. “I am very pleased with your performance today, Eren. Hanji has taught you well. You will serve in his place when either of us sees fit.” I bow deeply and blush at the compliment. This is the first time he has praised me so openly, and I feel my chest tighten with emotion. We move from the large dining hall and Hanji parts from us in the main hallway, heading toward the kitchens. “I am sure you are aware that I’ve kept to our agreement.” He turns to me and speaks in a low tone that I find soothing. My cheeks still burn from his praise moments ago, and it only deepens at the reminder of our arrangements. He awaits my nod of confirmation before stiffening up and speaking clearly again, as if acting for the sake of any eavesdroppers. “I expect you will keep to your word, as well. Come prepared to my chamber in one hour.”

 

A stone drops into the pit of my stomach as I process the words. He has already begun ascending the spiral staircase that leads to his room, leaving me with feelings of nervous anticipation and uncertainty. _What will happen to me tonight?_

 

I spend the hour cleaning myself as thoroughly as I did Petra just hours ago. Although I don’t expect Master to take me in that way again, I understand his love of cleanliness and wish to please him. Regardless of what happens this evening, I will not regret my decision to stay here. When I’ve gotten every inch of skin and hair, I dig the grime from under my nails and trim them evenly. My hair refuses to tame under my soft bristled brush, but I try regardless for a few minutes. All the while, the stone in my stomach quivers, and I have to fan my face to keep the nervous sweat from sullying my now-clean skin.

 

I arrive at his door minutes early and debate if he would consider that good or not. I decide to knock quietly and hope for the best, although the mere action is strange as a servant doesn’t often knock without having first been summoned. He opens the door and holds it wide, beckoning me inward with a passive wave of his free hand. I stand awkwardly a few feet inside and await his instruction.

 

“As both my servant and submissive, you will be pulling double duty this evening, Eren. Get the trunk.” His voice is low and commanding, with a dominance that overtakes me even before my mind has caught on. My weeks of servant’s training are certainly paying off.

 

With the trunk in hand, I emerge from the closet and stride to the center of his large room, just feet from the end of his bed. The plush carpet here is the same red as the downstairs rugs, and muffles the sound of the heavy wood as it hits the floor. Master hasn’t moved from where he stood near the door, although he’s closed and locked it much like the evening of our agreement.

 

He tosses me the loop of thin leather lace that holds the two trunk keys, which I recognize instantly from my time helping Hanji. My heartbeat has grown painfully in my chest, my hands shake fitfully as they attempt to insert the keys, and my nervous sweat creeps over my brow despite my effort at staying clean. As the three familiar clicks sound off from the trunk, I do my best to calm the turmoil that’s building inside.

 

_One_.

 

Take a deep breath. There’s nothing he can do to you that hasn’t been done before.

 

_Two_.

 

Now hold it. If you do well, none of the girls will need to be hurt again.

 

_Three._

 

Release it. If you do well, the master will praise you again.

 

The thought of Master Levi’s earlier praise is like the teasing drag of a cigar; not nearly enough to quench the thirst. I want more, and I will do nearly anything to get it.

 

The trunk opens easily, and the low squeak of the old hinges echoes in the silence of the room. I swallow a hard lump in my throat when I hear my master’s next order, in that same dominant voice that moves me like a marionette. “Retrieve the paddle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is definitely NSFW. This is where the 'BDSM' tag comes in full-force. I am warning you folks now, even though the next chapter isn't up yet. I'll be putting a warning at the beginning of it when it is, for those who may forget.


	6. The Abused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy had awoken something with our master; something shameful, and something dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another warning: super NSFW.  
> Trigger warnings : violence, abuse, sexual abuse in the form of BDSM

**Chapter Six**

 

**The Abused**

 

Eren was the symbol of perfect obedience. I knew he was capable of it, coming from such a life. What I didn't expect was the subtle look of eager anticipation in his bright eyes when I told him to strip. The minute trembling of his fair hips almost seeming excited rather than scared when I order him to his knees and bend him over the end of the bed.

 

His pale skin calls to the black leather of my studded paddle, and as soon as his supple ass is pointed at me I want to strike it; want to watch the flesh ripple with the force of my expressed emotion and swell. I take a heavy breath and control the urge, opting to first restrain his hands in my signature way. The softened rope slides over the small calluses of my fingertips and elicits a calming shudder from me. I pull it tightly over the flesh of his wrists and wind it around in the intricate practiced knots I've grown familiar with, ending near his elbows and effectively stopping all movement of his forearms. I give the arms a tug to ensure they are secure while still allowing blood flow and step back to admire the view. 

 

Regardless of my aversion to males thus far, Eren's slender form and inviting skin are arousing me in their restrained submission. I do not stop to consider if it is truly him or merely his position that I find exciting. Those thoughts will not get us anywhere. 

 

I stand still for a time, waiting to see if he will react and observe what he will do. I watch his back rise and fall with steady breaths and the slight curves of his ribs peeking from under his skin as they move. His head remains down so that his face is concealed in my blankets, covered additionally by his arms stretched above his head in their rope prison. After a silent minute or two he still does not move and I am impressed with his resolve.

 

"You pleased me with your performance today, Eren." My voice holds its strength despite the quiet level I hold in the nighttime silence. He remains still, but I can make out the smallest sharp intake of air from within the blankets. "But this isn't about today, is it?" I take the few small steps towards him, my bare feet padding on the thin rug covering the hardwood floor beneath. I stand so close that I can feel the warmth of his thighs through my own loose slacks. "Although that man has an excellent knack for getting under my skin, I found myself unusually calm. When thinking about it, I am sure that is because there are so many other things left to bother me; I just can't be arsed with him this moment. What do you think those things are, Eren?" I wait and observe, almost hoping that he will make some mistake; yet he continues to hold his perfect posture. I reach my free left hand up and place it firmly atop his bent spine, stroking first up and then down the curve of it; drinking in the warm silk feeling under my palm. My hand follows the curve until it slides over one round cheek, where I stop and cup it roughly; testing the feel of it as well. I am pleased when I hear a small gasp, but he does not move or answer. Finally, I grant him permission to try. "Speak."

 

"I-is it m-me, Master?" He stumbles over the question and his whole body shakes along with his voice, grazing the fabric of my pants right next to him. I step back and position myself just to the side, where I will stay when the punishment begins.

 

"That's right, Eren. It's you. From the first day you arrived you have asked favor after favor of me. Take you in, hide you, cover for you. Then what? Don't hurt the girls; hurt you, instead?" I take a deep breath to illustrate my irritation at the subject. "Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to enjoy my time with Petra today, when all I could think about was  _you?_  Being a man of my word has apparently become a curse!" My voice rises at the end and I watch his muscles tighten as his body recoils instinctively. Apparently, he thought I was going to hit him, then. Is the anticipation too much, already? I smile devilishly although he cannot see me.

 

It was true that I had spent the last several days feeling cursed. From the time of our arrangement until my time with Petra, I had spent uncountable hours thinking about this  _brat_. How had he gotten me to agree to something so foolish? Eventually I had reasoned with myself to attempt at his request; not only not to hurt the girls but to think of them more as people. I thought about my usual routines, where I would choose a slave and use her until I was bored before introducing her to the trunk. After which I would feel that I was out of entertainment with her and sell her to the next house. Lucky for Petra, I had not yet found her a buyer before Eren had planted these thoughts in my head, and so I summoned her this morning to see if I could truly change my ways with such a simple suggestion.

 

I was shocked when she entered the room, looking fiercely into my eyes in a way she had never done before. I thought surely I had scared her with our last meeting, but she looked instead like a beaten dog ready to retaliate. I suppose that look was the very reason I had sent those before her away: I had been ashamed. Eren's words had given me a way out that I never realized I may have actually wanted, and that revelation began turning a wheel within me. I met Petra's gaze with my own, no doubt looking cold and indifferent as usual. As I approached her she recoiled slightly yet never removed those eyes from mine.

 

"Petra. Thank you for meeting me." I try my best to address her as a  _person_ , even if it seems sour on my tongue.

 

Her eyes widen in obvious shock, but quickly turn angry again. "As if I had a  _choice_." I absorbed her words for a few heated moments and eventually give her an understanding nod.

 

"I understand your feelings. I have not brought you here for a repeat of last time. Although I would enjoy a romp in the style of our previous meetings, I won't be doing such things as that again; with any of you." After some time, she seems to soften and relax as I do my best to show her my better intentions. I do not mention the agreement with Eren; not with anyone. Instead I spent some time speaking with her and learning the things I hadn't known, things I now want to know about Eren. Her name is Petra Ral, and her mother was a slave as well. Her favorite color is the soft orange of peaches, and she had turned seventeen just a few months ago. I wondered briefly how she had spent her birthday, and if I had called on her that day. Eventually the conversation grows uncomfortable, as I am unused to such things, and I stifle it with my advances. She gives in and doesn't seem too reluctant, and we fall into the rhythm of the sessions from before my outburst with her. By the end I am appeased and yet irritated again, as each thrust into her soft flesh only brought the memory of Eren's tightening muscles around me. When we finished, I sent her away so that I may ponder the strange turmoil inside me before my meeting. It was true that I had indeed changed at his suggestion, afterall.

 

Then, that wretched old man provided me with the perfect test for Eren. I couldn't help but feel certain that he wouldn't leave, but then I knew so little about him in truth. His response was perfect and sent satisfaction through me, causing me to be full of thoughts of him yet again. Eren was a curse.

 

I look at his slender frame again and breathe deeply. "You will atone for your mistakes, Eren. You've been a bother, a chore, and a nuisance. Count them." I give no further warning before swinging my arm back and swatting the paddle into one soft cheek; hard enough to surprise and sting but not so hard that he won’t feel the rest. The leather makes the most pleasant sound against the flesh, and the metal studs leave beautiful dotted indents across him. He tenses and shudders at the pain, letting out a small cry as he counts off the first hit. That sweetly strained voice is music.

 

My wrist flicks with practiced precision and hits the second cheek not seconds later. He isn't prepared this time and almost jumps to his feet, but catches himself inches off the rug and lowers back down. I admire his obedience; so much so that it twists me into the desire to push him farther. He takes a breath and seems to lick his lips, then says "two" with strength I can't imagine he should possess. 

 

I decide on a total of five, and when the final hit comes down across his beet-red ass I must suppress a call of excitement. None of the girls ever made it to five without screaming or crying, and yet Eren has done just that. His body is tense and tight, shuddering with pain and adrenaline, yet he doesn't cry out. He instead calls, "Five!" His voice carrying relief and elation that the punishment is over. He surely doesn't realize that this was only the beginning. I had yet to practice all of my desires on anyone, having sent them all away broken much too early. With Eren, it seemed I would get much farther before receiving his tears. I was positively elated, and I begin to feel my body responding to the mental stimulus.

 

"Very good, Eren. I will now accept your apology." He doesn't hesitate a moment as he backs off of the bed and to the floor, catching himself with his shaky hands in their restrained position. His lanky arms are clumsy but manage the task of holding his bent torso from their strange angle, bowed before me at my feet.

 

_The small boy bowed at the man's bare feet; the unwashed smell choking his nostrils and nearly making him gag. The nasty thing stomps down between his shoulder blades and he is relieved to be rid of the stench, even at the cost of this pain. “I’m sorry, sir!”_

 

"I'm very sorry, Master! Please forgive my rude behavior! I will do better in the future!” His head bobs up and down in a smaller bow with each statement. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

 

_“Get up here, ya brat!” The man’s rough hands pull the boy to his feet and smack him across one small cheek. The boy stumbles again to the floor as the man loosens the buckle of his leather belt. “Sorry’s not good enough, kid.”_

The button of my slacks comes loose easily. I slide them down my hips just enough to free my growing erection. My eyes don’t leave Eren’s red backside as he continues to bow before me.

 

_The belt comes loose like a whip and slashes the boy in the side. He cries out and huddles to the dusty floorboards, covering his most sensitive areas from the harsh beating. The belt comes down over his back and neck repeatedly, until the man quickly grows tired in his drunken state._

“That’s perfect, Eren. Just like that.” I accept his apology; his submission. The way he obeys is like a gift, and I am receiving it greedily. My head lulls back for a moment as I absorb and enjoy the fulfilling sensation of control. “Come.” I step over to the edge of the bed and sit. The spot is still warm from Eren’s body, and the heat only relaxes me further. What a perfect evening.

 

Eren shuffles after me on his knees, watching the floor intently as he comes to a stop just between my slightly spread legs. My pants feel tight at my thighs in this position, but I do not remove them. The best way to establish our roles is the obvious: the submissive must be naked like an animal; while the master is clothed and proper. Instead I reach a hand to my exposed arousal and stroke it lazily, drawing his eyes to it. I smirk as they widen with understanding and expectation.

 

_The man falls into the bed with heavy breaths; entire body relaxing into the softness, while his one hand remains squeezed tightly over the leather belt. "Come here, boy. Do yer job, 'nless you wanna end up like that bitch maid downstairs." The boy shudders and wimpers, fully understanding the threat and the man's willingness to fulfill it. With shakey legs he climbs into the bed and begins to remove the man's dirty trousers._

 

"Do you want to please your master, Eren?" I ask slyly. He nods his head with enthusiasm, but I question it's authenticity. "Tell me."

 

"Yes, master. I want to please you!" His voice shakes with that same strength again; his eyes matching the fiery resolve. Where normally I would be so overcome with the urge to break him, now I have only the urge to feel that stubborn mouth.

 

"Go ahead, then." I release my cock and immediately it is taken clumsily into his mouth. He struggles to hold his balance without the use of his hands, but manages an impressive pace as his head bobs up and down my length. I relish the feeling of his warm toungue as it reaches down my entire shaft, leaving me wet and wanting with each stroke. I feel his hesitations, but he soon grows confident when I let a slow moan escape my parted lips. His voice begins to vibrate me each time he takes a breath around my growing erection, making it harder still.

 

His shallow thrusts are no longer enough, and I decide to offer some instruction. I shift my hips closer to the edge of the bed so that he may deepen the angel, but he does not seem to take the hint. "I want you to take all of me into your mouth, Eren." My fingers slide into his soft, clean hair and grasp it firmly without pulling. I coach his head down and feel him struggling for control, my cock pressing at the tightness of his throat. I hold him there until I feel him jolt with the need for air and slowly pull him back up. He gasps needy lungfulls but quickly recovers and voluntarily dives back down. I leave my hand resting in his hair but let him try on his own. His hot throat relaxes this time when the head presses into it, going farther now and pulling grateful moans from me. He jolts again and is quickly back to gasping for air. His bright eyes dare look into mine, questioning something I cannot determine. "Speak."

 

"M-master... am I doing well? Is it... g-good?" His chest rises and falls with the effort of catching his breath, and I pause in my answer to give him time. When he seems to have calmed I tighten my grip in his hair again, and place my other hand on his thin shoulder.

 

"It feels fine, Eren, but I need you to relax. You told me that you could handle this, and I expect you to." The reminder of our agreement seems to spur him on, and he nods. I watch him take one calming breath and relax, and a second breath before diving at me hungrily.

 

Finally, my cock hits the depths of his throat and I feel his lips all the way at my sac. "Ohh, Gods, yes." I hiss out. He seems to have lulled himself into the relaxed displacement of our first time together. Somewhere just outside of himself where he doesn't have to think about his uncomfortable situation. I allow him small gasps of air between each thrust but do not relent my pace. His mouth is tightening around me with little effect; his drool still slicks down us both, causing the beautiful wet sounds that drive me crazy. 

 

By this point the girls would always be crying, and I'd be forced to fuck a snotty face. Yet Eren isn't crying, or even looking very bothered at all. He seems determined to do his task well, and I must admit he is exceeding all expectation. I feel my stomach tighten with a heat so familiar, and pound into his hot insides faster. He simply holds his breath now in anticipation, and the little sounds he makes each time I slide in send me quickly to the edge. "Perfect, Eren. Beautiful."

 

_"Beautiful, kid. Jus' like that." He slurs out drunkenly as the boy works between his legs, crying and drooling in a pitiful pool of filth. The man grabs a handful of his hair roughly, forcing him violently down as far as he will go. The boy chokes and gags around the intrusion; coughing when the man comes sloppily in his throat. He is thrown immediately from the bed and to the floor while the man only turns over, settling in for sleep. "Now get out o' here an' go to yer room."_

 

I see stars for hours, it seems, as I release a significant load directly into the depths of him. He hardly need swallow, and I'm certain he  didn't even taste it. His lips close around me as I pull out, sucking hard at the length and cleaning me effectively. I watch the pink, plumped lips as he licks them, his eyes half lidded and glossy. Still, there are no tears in them, and I find myself a little disgruntled now that I am floating down from my high.

 

I hold his head between my palms and squeeze roughly, forcing his eye contact. "Why don't you cry, Eren?" He looks just as puzzled as I feel.

 

"Do you want me to cry, Master?"

 

The question isn't meant to be deep, but it is. Oh, how deeply it hits me, spinning me into self-realizations. I do want you to cry, Eren. I do. But when you cry, I will deem you weak and useless, and you will be cast out from my mind as trash. Thus, I do not want you to cry. Not at all. For then I will be ashamed and without you. 

 

The irritating collision of emotions over takes me. I curse at that controlling, twisted anger inside of me. "I don't know." Is all I can say when looking into his deep gaze. The gaze that surely sees right into me, and almost brings comfort. I release his head and he moves away so that I may stand and fix my clothing.

 

I hadn't intended to end the night there. I could still feel the anger in my stomach. But after the strange moment of self reflection, I no longer had the energy to direct the feeling at anyone; instead longing for solitude. I motion for him to sit normally on my bed and gingerly loosen his bondage. "You did very well, Eren. I am pleased." The ropes have left red indents over his pale skin and I take a moment to massage them out, not quite sure what causes me to do so. Perhaps I feel grateful for the trouble he's caused, afterall. He is watching my hands work with a strange look on his face, and I wish I knew what he was trying to say. 

 

"Wha-what now, Master?" He is still trying to catch his breath, but his body seems full of energy still; his half-hard cock twitching at the thought of continuing. I can't hide my amusement and surprise that he was actually enjoying this somehow, and he doesn't hide his embarrassment.

 

"Nothing. Get dressed and return to your room. I hope you won't be making any more trouble for me, Eren." Truthfully, I can't wait for another reason to have Eren submit to me.

 

He dresses promptly, covering his marked arms with the long sleeves of his dress shirt and gently pulling his pants over the curves of his sore ass cheeks. He dutifully stores the trunk and its contents away, bows, and heads for the door. "I trust you know better than to tell anyone about this." It isn't a question, and I know he understands. After he has gone, I make myself comfortable in my chair near the window and brood. 

 

If I had only known the true extent of Eren's reach then, perhaps I could have simply accepted the changes without the struggle. But stories aren't stories if they're easy; and we had a great deal of struggling ahead of us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never written anything like this before. I really hope it isn't terrible!


	7. The Mistaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy was assaulted by his own emotions, and beaten by his discoveries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay with this one. I have had a bit of a medical set-back, but am fine now. Updates should become more frequent again.

**Chapter Seven**

**The Mistaken**

 

The night and following morning after Master’s paddling left me feeling quite strange, both inwardly and out. I remember how the images and emotions seemed to haunt me in my day-to-day chores. That harsh sting of the cold metal studs when they struck me; the following force of the leather, all so unexpectedly  _enjoyable_.

 

I’d spend hours brooding over my strange feelings, wondering unkindly if I were only strange or perhaps born dumb. How could such a thing bring me pleasure? Hanji and I had passed one another in the halls that night, both skulking quietly to our rooms. He hadn’t asked where I’d been, and I did him the same courtesy. I could tell in the times that he caught me lost in thought that he wanted to ask me. He never did, however, likely so that I wouldn’t pry into his own suspicious actions. Eventually we had a silent agreement to forget it altogether. The more I brooded, the more the answers came to me like the pieces of a puzzle. The more complete the puzzle, the more I began to accept this new side of myself.

 

The sting of Master’s paddle was not only to hurt me or scorn me for merely being born. Rather, it was my vindication. My master was punishing me so that I could be  _forgiven_ ; something only those with more to offer would be granted. Master’s sure swing was there to free me of my mistakes so that I may improve, and improve for him I would. The pain was easily taken, as it is pain I had known for most of my years. It was the unusual kindness I had found beyond the pain that really hit me. My master was far from perfect, with his raging anger and twisted desires, but he was  _forgiving_ ; at least to those aside from himself.

 

I couldn’t imagine him as the monster the rumor-hungry townsfolk made him out to be. If any of the masters around were monstrous, it was surely my own previous captor. He was a vile man, as drunk and filthy as he was round, and he knew that he was sick. I believe it was his self-hatred that caused him to abuse us so; myself as the youngest, and three of my elders. I don’t like to think about it. I’d much rather pretend that the other boys hadn’t lost their lives so young, and that we all were somehow living better lives; that maybe they were also finding contentment.

 

I wish that we at least had been allowed the use of our names, so that I might know whom to direct my thoughts after. All I can do is bow my head and apologize to them with their crude slaven nicknames: The Boy With No Teeth, Princess, and No Kidding. I think the first time that I truly felt Master Levi’s kindness was when he asked me for my name, and I knew I was somehow saved from the shackles of those Nameless years. For the only name granted me was Nameless.

 

When Master guided me to my knees before him, I was first overcome with thoughts of The Boy With No Teeth. He hadn’t always been toothless, of course. It was one sad night nearly a year after I had first arrived, and my previous master had taken The Boy With No Teeth Who Then Had Teeth upstairs. We could hear his choking cries through the old floorboards as the master forced himself into the reluctant throat, and although it was clear he wouldn’t stop even if the boy had fainted from asphyxiation, he did indeed stop suddenly with a slew of loud curses. He screamed fiercely at the boy who had apparently bitten him- though whether intentionally was not clear to us below- and soon began to beat him.

 

The boy returned the next morning, hardly conscious and covered in his own blood. It was then that we saw his raw, empty mouth, and he became The Boy With No Teeth. It was a birth, and it was a death. After that, none of us would be caught with our teeth to the master’s skin; but little did it matter, because The Boy With No Teeth had become the master’s favored mouth-toy. When Master Levi’s cock hit the tightness at the back of my mouth, I was tense, and deadly nervous. Yet, his kindness peeked through to me again in the feel of his fingertips in my hair and across my shoulder. His voice was reassuring and certain as he coached me onwards. My master was not just taking his pleasure, but instructing me on how to give that pleasure to his liking. I didn’t need to fear the punishment of a mistake, as he was guiding me precisely. It was such a new feeling that I lost myself immediately; free of the horrible past and swept away by the present: Master’s praise and approval at my own hands.

 

The sting in my bottom had the blood flowing quickly along with the wet friction in my mouth. The evening was full of strange behaviors from myself as I felt my own cock lengthen and harden. I imagined Master’s thrusts not just in my quivering throat, but deep inside my reddened ass. It was only the second time that something sexual had aroused me, and the fact that the first instance had also been with Master Levi was no coincidence. It was becoming clear that I subconsciously allowed myself some freedoms with him. The puzzle pieces were coming together to form an unfamiliar picture.

                                       

Attempting to understand these new parts of myself had gotten me out of sorts. I began fumbling in my easiest tasks and forgetting my place in a sentence as I spoke it. My birthday came and went with little show, and I hadn’t even recalled it was happening until the late hours of the night at the end of the day; laying in my bed with a fresh novel in my hands. Eventually, Hanji grew tired of my daft behavior.

 

“Eren, is there something on your mind?” His large hands were full of novels waiting to be dusted and replaced along the bookshelf of Master’s office. He set them down upon seeing my surprised expression, as I am quite unaccustomed to hearing concern in his voice.

 

I train my eyes on the dirtying cloth in my hand and scrub harder at the wooden shelves. “No, sir. Everything is quite fine.”

 

I feel the lanky fingers grip my shoulder, pulling my gaze around to his. “Eren, you’ve been a mess! Ever since…  _that_  night.”

 

I try to bite my tongue, but the words are too quick. “Oh, you mean  _‘that night’_  where we caught each other sneaking about and refuse to talk about it?” As soon as they’ve left my mouth, I cringe; body already anticipating the punishing slap my teacher rarely hesitates to give me. Instead, he sighs.

 

“Yes, that night. I’ve no plans to tell you where I was, and I won’t ask you the same. But you need to get yourself together, otherwise I’ll be forced to pry.” His stern look is softened with concern, and I smile at how he almost looks childish.

 

“I’m sorry, sir. You’re not wrong. I’ve had a lot to think about lately. It has been many years since I was given so much…” My sentence trails off and he gestures me onward.

 

“So much what?”

 

“…anything.” I finish with dry amusement.

 

“Well, Eren, just know this: I may be your teacher, and not the kindest hand around, but you can come to me if you want to talk.” He says, shaking his head with disappointment. “Especially if you’ve got something getting in the way of our work. Understand?” I nod my head, believing him. It is the first time I’ve seen Hanji with such a look-  _any_  look aside from disgruntled boredom. I like it, I decide.

 

My fumbling hasn’t improved things with the master, either, to say the least. In the days following my paddling, I would stand before him as a nervous and blithering mess. My heart would beat erratically, and my palms would sweat in a way I know he’d find repulsive. The bit of stuttering that catches me when I’m tense seemed to follow at my ankles. For the first time in years, I was  _embarrassed_. I spent sleepless nights filled with worry, certain that Master wasn’t calling on me any longer because I hadn’t been good enough. I was no longer useful. It was those nights that found me under candlelight, nose to bound leather as I read page after page of my newest book.

 

This one was harder. Much more complicated than the volumes Hanji had previously loaned me. My unpracticed eyes had to move slowly over each word; many of which I didn’t recognize. The book was left for me on my small desk days ago, and yet I’d only managed three chapters. The distraction was welcome, regardless, and I made a note to thank Hanji when I’d finished.

 

Weeks after my session with Master, he still hadn’t called for me. My disappointment would have been palpable, had anyone been paying any mind. The maids and servants alike were in a fuss, all quite immersed in preparations for some event.

 

“What is going on?” I asked teacher one afternoon. We had spent the entire morning gathering all of the rugs and carpets, and Hanji would help the maids carry them outside. I still wasn’t willing to venture outdoors for fear of any onlookers, and so busied myself with the rest of the long list of chores.

 

“Our master has been chosen to host the next Ball, Eren. They have them often enough, but something tells me they have a motive for nominating him this time. We are to make sure the entire house is spotless- even more so than usual, and the dining room will be converted into the ballroom.” I am floored by the news. Who in their right mind would invite themselves to ‘Master A’s’ home!? I am immediately a mass of nerves and sweat as I imagine the face of my previous master and his intimidating servant, sauntering through the halls of my safe haven and corrupting it.

 

A firm hand is on my shoulder in the way I've come to know as Hanji's only method of comfort. "It'll be alright, Eren. You will spend the evening out of sight, some place safe. I have no idea if that man will appear, but we won't take any chance regardless." His expression is determined and honest. I succeed in calming down at the thought of his and Master's protection, yet my hands continue to shake.

 

"Thank you, teacher. I could never truly express my gratitude for all that you and Master have done. I promise to work harder so that you won't regret having me here." He gives me a warm smirk, and nods.

 

The Nobel's Ball would be held in a week's time, and I do my best to remain calm and complete my tasks without mistake. An afternoon of hard work and distraction clears my mind of both the ball and my night with Master Levi. I begin to think I'll return to normal, and feel relieved. Perhaps my strange thoughts and feelings were only a momentary phase. Perhaps those puzzle pieces weren't meant for my puzzle.

 

Just as the thought crosses my mind, a familiar chime echoes down the first floor hallway from Master's office. The tone is deeper than Teacher Hanji's, and the sound rings in the air slightly longer. It's the sound of  _my_  bell, telling me that the master wishes for  _my_  presence, and none other's. My heart quickens again when I enter the room. Master sits behind his large wooden desk, looking bored and exhausted from his work. The few papers before him are spread out neatly so that he may see them each without shuffling through a stack. I bow my head and leave my gaze on the floor until he acknowledges me after a few long moments.

 

"Hello, Eren. Busy with the preparations?" I nod my head but quickly realize he isn't looking at me, but still to his paperwork.

 

"Y-yes-s-sir." I cringe at my stuttering speech. Always quick to give away my nerves.

 

As if he's heard my unrest, he turns his gaze to me. The look is sharp, and piercing; looking right through me until I am exposed and naked before him, like before- "Is something the matter?" His question halts my impure thoughts before they may advance, and I thank him silently.

 

_Do I tell him? Dare I admit my worries? Will he think that I do not believe in his protection?_ My brow creases with the deliberations and I already know that I can not keep anything from this man. No because he is my master, but because of that stormy gaze that opens me up like a fine book. "It's the b-ball, Master. I-I'm a b-bit nervous." I take a few deep breaths to try and calm my stuttering. "I-if  _he's_ there-" My master's hand comes up to stop me, and I am visibly relieved.

 

"Do you always stutter when you're nervous, Eren? I don't recall you doing that when we met." He retains his bored expression, but his voice seems to betray his genuine curiosity.

 

"N-not always, M-master. When we met, I w-was a lit-..." another deep breath, "a little desperate. I think I-... I- get w-worse when I-I think about it." I realize then that this is the worst it's been since arriving here, and my nervousness is only increasing. If I were still with  _him_ , he would beat me for each word I dragged over until I either said it perfectly, or couldn't speak. The thought of seeing him again sends my stomach into a knot and I can already tell that if my nerves get any tighter, I won't be able to speak at all. The deep breathing is no longer helping, and my knotted stomach is beginning to feel sick. I realize that I still don't know why I've been called to Master's office, and try to hurry things along before I break. "Y-you c-called me, Master?"

 

He doesn't answer right away, instead opting to watch me with his piercing eyes. I see them travel up and down my shaking form; surely noting the sweat on my brow and redness in my eyes. "I've nothing important to discuss, Eren, so if you cannot converse then you may leave. I wished only to ask how you've been enjoying  _'The Confessions'_. I'd hoped it wouldn't be outside of your abilities to understand it."

 

The reminder of the book I've been reading collapses all of my previous thoughts.  _How does Master know about my book? I thought Hanji left it for me..._ It's true that the book is a bit above my reading level, as I have had no practice since I was a boy. The subject, however, is well within my understanding. "I've only gotten a few chapters in, Master. I am lacking in practice, but I am quite interested in it's content and find it hard to look away; even if I am moving slowly." He nods his head as I speak.

 

"Good, good. I had no idea if you enjoyed satire, so I do hope you enjoy it until the end. It is yours to keep, but do feel free to speak with me if you have any trouble understanding it. Aside from Hanji, I have few people to speak with about literature." His eyes are moving lovingly over the many shelves of books about his office. I see in his eyes that they bring him great joy, and for a moment I am envious of even the trees they are made from. His words sink into me and only then does it occur to me...  _The night I found the book atop my desk... when was it? Ah! The night of my birthday... I had thought that Hanji was just leaving me another novel to keep me out of his hair... but-_

 

I gasp with understanding and shock. “M-master! The novel- was it you, perhaps, who left it for me!?” His eyes snap from his books and to me, changing from warm to ice cold.

 

“Who did you _think_ left it for you?” He sounds exasperated and annoyed, sending shivers down my spine.

 

“I-I have been borrowing books from Teacher! I had only thought he was leaving me another. I-I’m very sorry for not understanding, Master. Please forgive m-me, and kn-know that I am s-s-so gr-great-grateful!” My stutter only grows stronger with each word I try to say. Master Levi sighs and looks back to his paperwork, but doesn’t appear to truly be seeing it.

 

“It’s alright, Eren. I should have been clearer. I am glad that you are enjoying it. Happy birthday, for what it is worth. Now calm down and stop with that terrible stuttering!”

 

_For what it’s worth?_ I feel tears prickling my eyes, and suddenly I am shaking not with fear but with gratitude. _It is worth the entire world to me, Master!!_

 

I bow countless times and cover my face as it twists into an ugly sob. The tears roll before I can catch them, and so I retreat from his office with another hurried ‘thank you’ and perhaps some other embarrassing mumbles; not wanting him to really hear my ramblings in this emotional state. I run to find something to wipe my face, and once it is clean I begin to look for Hanji. He is the only one who could know what this means- why Master would do something so unexpected. Hanji would surely understand this. My shoes hit the floorboards of the large house loudly as I search nearly every room on the first floor.

 

Annie, the maid, notices my frenzied search and stops me. She hands me a rag that isn’t too dirty yet and I use it to wipe the fresh tears as Master’s gift continues to ring through my mind. She informs me that my teacher has gone downstairs to his room, likely to change his sullied clothing, and that I shouldn’t disturb him. She was right, I knew it- Teacher never allowed me back into his room after that first day, and he had made it very clear that I was never to enter without permission. Still, my feet carried me on.

 

My emotions were too high. The strange feelings Master had awoken within me during our private night, and the terrified anxiety over the Nobel’s Ball… and now the immense gratitude I felt over the single birthday wish; all washing over me into a great storm of nerves. I had spent years burying things like hope and happiness. For years, I had thought that surely I would die on my seventeenth birthday, just like The Boy With No Teeth had. Just like Princess had after him, and No Kidding had after that. It was my turn, wasn’t it? Surely death was still coming for me, right?

 

The darkness of the immense underground basement of the servant’s quarters engulfed me. The halls were empty and quiet as everyone was out and busy with their preparations. I took the few turns and passed my own door, aiming for the room just a few doors down that would lead me to Teacher.

 

Not only had Master Levi taken me in and sheltered me from that man… he had kept me alive through the day I had thought would mean my death. I had even forgotten the very day; forgotten my terror in the presence of my acceptance here. I was so elated to have found a home that I no longer felt that terror; and if I could do it then, I could do it the day of the ball. Master had given me too many gifts to count on that day… and he would never even know it.

 

I arrive at Hanji’s door and take no pause; throwing open the door and preparing to excitedly announce to him all of these new revelations. He had meant it when he said that I could speak to him- I saw it in his eyes, and I would happily take him up on the offer this instant, while we were alone and-

 

“……Hanji?”

 

My teacher’s eyes were wide and frozen. Each muscle was tight and statuesque, paused with a new, clean shirt held just over the frozen head. _That’s right, Annie said he was changing clothing…_

 

That didn’t explain the look of horror on my teacher’s face. However, I quickly understood as my eyes trailed from the shirt and down to the black slacks, left open at the button for shirt tucking. In between these two articles of clothing, my teacher wore a generous wrapping of bandages around the chest, pulled tightly to the porcelain skin. The slender figure I’d come to know as that of a lanky man had been only a disguise created by clothing. Underneath, Hanji’s waist curved delicately into shapely hips.

 

My eyes absorbed the sight with shock as Teacher slowly lowered the shirt; effectively covering the bandages. Brown eyes bore into me, looking both pleading and anxious; begging me not to say a word. I could never speak it out loud; the thing that would change Teacher’s life forever.

 

Hanji was a woman.


	8. The Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The servant had tried hard to forget. Some things, however, would prove immortal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book that Master Levi gifted to Eren is called "The Confessions of Georgina", by Julian Robinson (aka Le Compte Du Bouleau). A short summary : A tale of bondage and domination that satirizes the hypocrisy of Victorian morality. It can be found on Kindle and Amazon, for those potentially interested.
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> The following chapter contains YURI NSFW content.

**Chapter Eight**

 

**The Girl**

 

I walk through the dark and silent hallways beneath the manor, making my way to the enclosed stairwell that will take me to the ground floor. It is the middle of the night, and everyone has long gone to bed. I don't fear discovery; Master has made it clear to all that there is to be no nighttime activity whatsoever. Since he himself adheres to the rule, I have not once been discovered in the time that I've made this a habit.

 

The heavy silence is only penetrated by my soft footsteps, and the rhythm makes my mind wander just as it does every time I take this secret walk.  _Will Master Levi one day discover me? What will he think of me?_   Surely he'd deem me weak and I'd be forced to see disappointment or even disgust upon his face. It is the last thing I want for him to feel for me, after all of our years together. Although the word is never, ever said aloud, he is my friend. My dearest friend; but above all, the master to which I have bound my life. He would feel betrayed.

 

I recall our first encounter as I emerge into the rear of the kitchens and dodge around metal tables and food bins. My toe hits a bag of rice and I curse quietly.

 

"Welcome to your new home, Hanji. Treat your new master well; he's paid a pretty sum for you. Though why, I couldn't say!" The hand of my escort slammed into my small back, pushing me towards the side of the house where a tall servant with blonde hair and blue eyes waited; propping open the plain door clearly meant for unimportant visitors. I did not look at the man behind me or give him any reaction to the words. My feet took me forward unsteadily until they stopped before the servant.

 

"Hello, you must be Hanji. My name is Erwin. Please come inside." His large hand beckoned me inward. I was immediately hit with the stench of dust and mold; a smell that only grew more pungent as we descend into a basement. The ceiling was low, and the entire space was open, leaving no private reprieve. A few other slaves turned to look at me before rolling back into their thin, filthy mattresses. They looked older, but that could have been the weight of their lives showing through.

 

Erwin motioned me to my own rusted cot and I sat, crossing my hands in my lap and showing no emotion.

 

"This is where you will be staying until the master is ready to see you." His eyes were cold and detached, but I like to think I saw pity behind them as he turned to leave. The large door closed with a loud click, and I was locked in with my new companions.

 

Their eyes almost glowed in the darkness as they looked to me. I could't read their expressions. Time passed.

 

I glimpsed the fair skin of my neighbor's hip bones as her shirt crept up her stomach. I wanted to reach over and graze it with my fingers, but settled only for lapping at it with my eyes hungrily. I know that it is wrong; that girls should not like girls and boys should not like boys. But I've never felt like a girl; never wanted to be one, either. My gaze was torn away when she rolled over and the shirt fell back down. I awaited my fate solemnly. I knew what came next: my most feared thing.

 

 _I am a slave now. This is my punishment._  "You're old enough now to get to work. Maybe now you'll see that you're wrong." 

 

My father never understood. He said I was confused. But being there, minutes or moments away from meeting my master and performing my 'duties', only solidified my feelings. I didn't want to be a girl. I didn't want to have sex with this man- or any man. I wanted the soft flesh of the girls around me.

 

I walk through the kitchen doors and out into the hall. The large spiral stairs in the center of the house look looming and haunted in the darkness. I know precisely which steps creak when stepped on, and avoid them in perfect silence on my way up.

 

My master had waited days to call on me. I was beginning to think he'd only bought me to starve me, considering the little amount of food thrown to us by Erwin each day. A bit of bread for each of us, some dried meat, a single cup of water. It was torture. I know now that is exactly what my master had been wanting: our suffering. 

 

I was escorted to his chamber atop the stairs in silence. When at last I saw his face, I nearly fainted at the thought of having to touch that man. He was tall and lean, but filthy. Dark, course hairs sprouted from his bare chest and crawled over his back; spotted his chin and cheeks. The hair on his head clung to his skin with thick grease. He smelled of booze and the smoke coiling up from his pipe. 

 

He didn't touch me, thankfully. He merely stared, instructing Erwin to turn me this way and that. At his command, my dress was raised up and my panties torn away. I tasted bile at the back of my throat when his eyes roamed over my despised parts. He tapped his pipe out over the floor, not caring about the filth.

 

"Take her to  _his_  room." Was all he said to Erwin after that. And so we went.

 

It was then that I met Levi. He looked at me in horror and cursed at Erwin to take me away. He used big words- bigger than any I knew, or even my parents, likely. Erwin only shook his head and left, leaving me there with the boy in a strained silence.

 

"And just what the hell are you doing here?" He literally spits at me.  _Well, at least I don't have to worry about him fucking me_ , I think.

 

"I don't know."

 

His eyes remain large and displeased. "How long have you been in this house? I've never seen you."

 

"Three days." I said.

 

"How long have you been a slave?" He eyeballed me cautiously, seeming curious.

 

"Three days." I said again. He scoffed.

 

"He's never brought one in so young before." His voice was softening, seemingly pleased that I was untainted. "Go on then, sit." He motioned to a chair in the corner of his small room. We were on the second floor and the small window allowed me a nice view of the green fields outside. I stared in quiet longing at the freedom I thought I’d never have again. He seemed to know the look on my face.

 

"I miss it, too." He sounded lonely.

 

"Can't you go? Aren't you important or something?" His eyes were distant, staring into the sky outside while his feet swung above the floor idly. He was small. I realized we were likely the same age.

 

"I am not allowed to leave the house. I've never been outside."

 

"Then how can you miss it?" I said without thinking; my bitterness taking me over. How could he understand having his freedom taken away if he has never tasted it? I wish I hadn't been so dumb. We were both in pain.

 

He wasn't hurt by my words, however. Most often he seemed not to even hear me. Eventually I was sent back downstairs, only to be ignored again for many more days. Master Ackerman would call on me again and again, each time only to send me to Levi without touching me. I was much luckier than the other girls, who would be taken daily and always returned with bruises or cuts.

 

I always saw Levi in the afternoons, looking alert and restless. One evening, however, Erwin was escorting me to the bath- my first in weeks, and I saw him. He was limping down the stairs, coming from the top floor where the master was. We passed one another but he did not look at me. Beneath his long, disheveled bangs were red cheeks and wet tears. I could see blood near one ear. That was when I knew that Levi was also a victim. That was when I knew that even I, the slave, was being treated better than him, the heir.

 

The next time we saw one another, he caught me staring at his wounds.

 

“It’s nothing.” He had said, swatting a hand in front of his face as if to wave away my unspoken concerns.

 

I was growing weary of this odd routine where Master Ackerman would send me here, each time sending my pulse into a rage and making me sick with anxiety. Finally, I had snapped at Levi.

 

“Why don’t you just fuck me, already? That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” The words had a cold bite to them, but I remember how his face never swayed from its calm mask.

 

“Is that what you want? For me to  _fuck_  you?”

 

I didn’t miss the way his words mocked me and my simple speach. I scoffed, this time, feeling my gaze go dead somewhere over the skyline outside the window. We always sat at that window, looking out.

 

“Surely the day I am fucked by a man will be the day that I die.”

 

He looked hard into my already dead eyes for a long time. Eventually, he let his curiosity- or loneliness, perhaps, force him to pry. Without meaning to, I told him everything. Perhaps it had been my own loneliness compelling me to answer. He was the first and last person I ever told after my parents. He just nodded his head, and accepted it.

 

After that, we were friends. He never made me feel like a girl, and never treated me like one. Levi didn’t care if his only friend was a girl or a boy, and that suited me just fine. One day, he even allowed me to slip into a pair of his old trousers. That was a defining moment in my life.

 

We spent hours in his room on the second floor. It was much cleaner than the rest of the house and Levi kept his few belongings neatly organized. He began showing me how to write letters and make words; to read small sentences and children's books. Slowly, Levi had educated me just enough that we could have what he called 'intelligent conversation', which he claimed he was ‘starved for’. Often, he would tuck a book into the waistband of my underwear and let me sneak it downstairs. I didn't mind him seeing under my dress, as he had already glimpsed my deepest secrets. The other slaves looked questioningly at me but said nothing as I read by candlelight. Like this, I was able to escape into fantastic worlds and relive them in my discussions with Levi. I became complacent, and as close to happy one taken from their home and sold as a slave could be.

 

As I recall my master's younger self I lament his many changes. He is hardly the shy and trembling friend I knew then, but a new and sturdy friend created by his own demons. An unstable one.

 

The boy has changed him even further.

 

Eren's arrival was more than I could say. It was a storm, a disaster, and a calming ray of sunshine. Master’s many years of internal struggle had turned him into a time bomb. He threatened to blow; harming himself and anyone near. Eren had somehow turned down the blast radius, and I sense now that if the bomb were to blow, it would harm only the two of them. As if on some private island away from the rest of the house. That was the impression I now had, and it had began the night Master had lost control and slept with the boy.

 

Why had he done that? Master was very adamant that he wasn’t interested in boys. He had been repulsed at the idea, really, and spent all of these years taking woman after woman. It made little sense. Regardless, that night changed him. He now looks at Eren strangely when the boy isn’t watching. He takes the slaves less and has even seemed calmer when faced with annoyances. Something was going on, and I need to know what.

 

My trousers begin to feel tight on my hips now, as if aching to come off of me as soon as I reach the second floor. It is as if I am held captive by my clothes: the only thing defining me as a man among these many women. I slip into the large slave chamber quietly, being careful with the key in the lock. My footsteps pad through the rows of small beds until I find the one I am looking for. I tap her on the shoulder and she arises, already awake and waiting. When we get to the hall and I have locked the door behind us, her fingers lace into mine tightly. I lead her to the washroom.

 

We don’t stop to contemplate what the other girls will think. They are forbidden to speak to one another about what happens to them outside of that room, and even if asked, Nifa would never tell them the truth.

 

As soon as the door to the washroom had closed, my body is pressed to hers, in turn pressing her into the wooden door. I feel her arms wrap around my neck and her small fingers grip at my hanging hair. Our lips meet with wet passion. I am hungry.

 

I slowly pull her nightgown up and slide my hands beneath it, feeling her flat stomach and tracing her ribs. The motions earns me small gasps and giggles into my mouth as she is tickled, and I feel my hair come loose when she tugs away the tie. She is the only one who will see me with my hair down. She is the only one who will see me shudder as her hands comb through it and graze my scalp. I tug gently on her own short locks, admiring the color and the way it always smells like  _her_. When her body presses into mine so uniformly that we are practically one, I decide to take the hint.

 

Stumbling backwards, our lips still frantically locking together, I find the valve for the tub and begin filling it with warm water. She presses me to the edge and I sit there, balanced unsteadily with my shaking legs, and trail my fingertips up her ribs again and to her breasts. The nightgown’s cool silk tickles at my hands, adding fuel to the fire within me. I cup each soft one in my hands and play gently, teasing her as she moans against my lips impatiently.

 

I give her what she wants; pinching each nipple playfully before reaching up and removing the nightgown completely. It drops to the floor in a pile of shining white and I see her exposed flesh vibrate with excitement. My fingers hook into the matching panties and pull them down to the floor, where I stay on my knees near the filling tub. Her hands grip into my hair and her head tilts back, already anticipating what’s to come.

 

My tongue dives greedily into her flesh. I taste the skin of her thighs and nip at them. My hands massage up her thighs simultaneously and coax them further apart. Her hands grip tightly in my loose locks when my tongue slides up and finally makes sweet contact with her clit. I press firm circles around it, wetting it thoroughly and tasting her sweetness. My tongue dips further between her thighs, as far as it can go at this angle, and plays with her opening. My nose is tickled by the patch of soft hair there and I am overwhelmed with the scent of her; lust and sweat and perfume. It intoxicates me.

 

Nifa is wet and wanting. I feel my fingers slick along her thighs, now soaked by her own arousal. She's practically purring between heavy breaths, spurring me onward endlessly. I feel my own underwear sticking to me uncomfortably. I want so badly to relieve the ache, but can't. 

 

I slide my right hand up and massage her entry with two fingers; thumb rubbing in unison with my tongue. When I enter her, she shudders and moans appreciatively; hips shuttering and begging for friction. I grant it, moving my long fingers in and out of the wet heat in steady rhythm. By now, I know just the way to work her until she falls apart.

 

Nifa is the first woman to pull from me those deeply buried things. I have always, from that fateful night with Master Ackerman, stored away my empathy for the slaves. I disconnected from them so completely so that I would not be overcome with guilt, and turned blind eyes unto all of their suffering before me. If I did not, surely the guilt would kill me.

 

Then a day came that one girl would look into me and pull from my depths that murdered emotion; reviving it only for her and the passion in her eyes. Nifa had won me over with a single stolen kiss, here in this very washroom.

 

I think about that encounter and feel indebted, so my fingers work a hard rhythm inside her, as if it is my repayment. The soft flesh enveloping me is mesmerizing. I've yet to tire of the feel of her deep insides, wrapping around me and responding to each subtle movement. The slippery heat is comfortable around my fingers and begs me to play more and more. Soon, her hips are rocking and angling herself further into my mouth where I suck and lap at her outside as my hand abuses her insides in just the way she likes it. I love even the sound of her high voice growing higher as she moans breathy versions of my name. I taste her climax on my tongue and swallow what I can deep inside of myself, so that a part of her will stay with me even after we part.

 

She groans and laughs mischievously, wiggling her hips away from my still-thrusting hand. She doesn't understand why I could touch her all night; why the slick flesh brings me pure ecstasy even though I have yet to be touched. I grab her waist with my free hand and swing us around so that she is now over the edge of the tub. I turn off the water now sitting just under the rim and press her down firmly upon my hand, still inside. Her sweet voice gasps, finding that fresh wave of pleasure even after her orgasm. How I delight in a woman's ability for multiples.

 

I bring my tongue back to her rippled flesh and she moves herself up and down over my hand, hard. The view is provocative and lusty and thoroughly engraved in my mind forever. Her fingers grip the porcelain tightly as she rides out her pleasures, moving exactly how she wants to bring herself back to the edge. I love the way she doesn't shy away from her desires. My knuckles turn white and sting where they press upon the hard surface of the tub, but I cannot be bothered with it. Nifa is growing closer with each rhythmic motion and I match her pace with my tongue until her head is thrown back and she comes again, shaking with exhaustion and soaking the side of the white bath.

 

My smile is broad and likely conceited as I help her slip into the water. She makes a grab for my clothing and tries to rub at my crotch, but I stop her at the wrists and press her gently into the water to wash. I see her eyes flick to my trousers; not strained with any signs of arousal or moist with any precum. She looks disappointed or dejected, but quickly stifles it. I feel ashamed and guilty for my betrayals. 

 

Once we are washed, along with the soiled side of the tub, I take her back to her bunk. I get a small kiss that I don't feel I deserve, because I know she is trying to reassure me that it is alright; things will get better. Likely she believes I have a dysfunction. I love her all the more for accepting such a flaw, yet can't believe she would accept my true reasons. We have never been very conversational. Her place is as a slave to our mutual master, mine is as his servant. The only ways for us to be together are the secret lusty meetings within a darkened washroom. No further discussions about goals or futures or feelings pervade our short times together, for we can have no more future than this.

 

 

I return to my basement hideaway solemnly, eyes traveling to the fingers so recently deep inside her. I lose myself in the fresh memories and emotions, wondering idly if I will use these fingers to calm the dull ache in my own belly or if I should ignore it as some form of sad punishment. My soft footsteps carrying me through the halls are soon joined by a second faint echo and I look up to see Eren.

 

 My thoughts stutter to an awkward stop at the sight of him. He is flushed and his hair seems more disheveled than usual. I opt for believing it is from skulking about and not from the _other_ possibility: the strange reason our master has been subdued. He sees the hard look in my eyes and understands. Neither of us will be talking about this.

 

The next weeks would be a battle of wills. I wanted badly to ask him where he had been and what he had been doing; was he with our master or was he doing something that would displease him? Asking would only mean I’d have to give my own reasons for being out at night, and I would never do that. That would put Nifa in danger.

 

Eren was stumbling again, and his eyes were often unfocused. He was doing a lack-luster job around the manor, and so I had to scold him on a few occasions. His large, colorful eyes always broke through my barrier when he looked at me, and so I finally felt myself warming to him the more we spoke. _Perhaps he is the reason for Master’s softened behavior, and my own lighter steps,_ I thought. We grew closer and I began to offer him my counsel, although he often declined. The way he so sincerely thanked me and worked with a passion even through his distraction was endearing.

 

We prepared for the Noble’s Ball, and I sensed his unease. He was terrified of his previous master the way I had been of mine. I vowed to him in my own way that we would protect him. If only he knew how Master and I understood his terrors.

 

On a day I had spent cleaning and organizing, getting frustrated and overwhelmed, I had sneaked Nifa into the washroom for another romp. The usual quick bout of pleasures transpired before I returned her to her room and went downstairs to change my sweat-drenched clothing. It was then that Eren had barged into my room, unannounced, and discovered my secret. I was livid, and shocked, but mostly ashamed. He, with his large and piercing eyes, would see my sins. He would see that I spent every day pretending to be a man in order to escape life as a slave, all while aiding our master to take and abuse countless slaves of his own. I was the lowest of the low. I was completely broken under his watery stare.

 

But he did not look at me with any such things. He looked confused, and betrayed, but not angry. He did not look disgusted. Instead, he bowed his head deeply and apologized. “I am very sorry, Teacher. Please forgive and excuse me!” He had said, backing out and nearly slamming the door.

 

I was left to sit in my silence and absorb him. Eren had not said anything unusual, but his expression had said it all. He did not care that I was a woman; he only cared that I did not hate him. In this vulnerable moment of revelations, I did not hate Eren; I found I quite liked him. I found myself _thanking_ him somehow, for barging into my room- this mansion- our _lives,_ unannounced and honest.

 

I knew then that we would _never_ allow Eren to leave this place, as long as we could help it.


	9. The Possessive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master encountered his nemesis: both The Man and The Emotion.

**Chapter Nine**

 

**The Possessive**

 

The day of the ball had arrived, much to my upset, after another sublime night with Eren. I knew I would need the release as close to the event as possible, and he was so fit to give it. The itch in my belly quelled easily at my outpouring of frustration over his beautiful ass; the familiar paddle transferring my negatives unto Eren until we both panted with our own versions of pleasurable release. He was able to forget his fears momentarily, and I was able to forget my annoyances; both spawned from this damned looming ball.

 

As the guests file in from the large front door and down the hall leading to the makeshift ballroom, I watch with lax interest from the main staircase. The entrance to the large room is just at the foot of the stairs and so I am able to look upon each unwanted guest as they pass. Here on the old steps I am not only assessing the party goers, however, but also- perhaps subconsciously, blocking anyone from ascending them; preventing any wandering eyes from finding their way to our young servant-in-hiding.

 

My staff all line the halls, dressed in perfectly laundered and pressed uniforms, holding trays of Champagne. The guests all take their choice glasses happily and move into the ballroom. Many of them stop to exchange pleasantries with me that we all know are troublesome and false. After a few minutes of the annoyance, I give up my place on the steps and move into the ballroom along with them. The large space has been transformed in record time, due to the hard work of Hanji and the others; Eren included. It's almost a shame that he won't see the fruits of his labor tonight.

 

"Master Ackerman, so great to see you!"

 

"Master of the Evening! Have you been well? We simply  _must_  meet more often!"

 

"Good day, Master Ackerman. Lovely home."

 

The endless greetings and attempts at small talk drone on for what feels like an eternity as the many nobles file indoors. The men dress in their best suits with shining shoes while the women sport large, cumbersome gowns embroidered with varying amounts of gems and glitter. The things are nearly blinding, and the dull ache in my skull brought on by annoyance quickly becomes a full-fledged migraine. The stream of guests eventually begins to peter out and the crowd forms a large curve around the room, lining the refreshment tables and avoiding the general area taken up by the musicians and their instruments at the far end of the room. I stand in the center of the group of performers and call everyone's attention with a few taps of my champagne glass. Once the low chatter has ended and all eyes are on me, I reluctantly clear my throat in preparation for my boring speech; prepared for me by Hanji. I spare a glance at his figure, dark in one of the corners of the room, and he smirks at me.

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, of the finest caliber and even finer attire-" I attempt a friendly smile when motioning to the ridiculous dress of a nearby lady, "Welcome to my home. It has been my honor to prepare for this evening, and an honor to have been invited to host." I lower my glass onto a nearby table and lace my fingers together. "It has been many years since I have invited so many into my home and I hope that you will all find this evening to your liking. Tonight's refreshments have been prepared by the finest chefs in town, and the music provided by the internationally known Rosewall Orchestra!" I motion behind me to the many musicians preparing for the first dance and the crowd erupts into polite and excited applause. I signal the conductor with a nod and immediately the beginnings of swelling music fills the room. "As public speaking is not my strong suit, I shall end it here. Please enjoy!" They clap again and some even offer me genuine smiles, forgetting for a moment that Ackerman is the man they love to hate. 

 

The crowd pushes onto the dance floor, causing me to slip gratefully to the sidelines where I watch them all sway clumsily to a fine waltz, already drunk. Hanji flits in and out of my vision, refilling trays and directing the other servants around effortlessly. I waste time picking at a few grape vines and thinking of Eren; sitting now in my chamber all alone and quite nervous. I recall the terrible stuttering of late, and how it indicates his anxiety. A particularly sour green grape causes me to grimace just when Hanji manages a glance my way. He chuckles.

 

"Alright there, Master? Can I fetch you anything?" He asks as his long legs carry him to my side, close enough that we may speak lowly to one another.

 

I aim my voice at his ear as best as I can with our height difference. "Please be sure to deliver Eren some refreshments, Hanji." I choose to ignore the smirk on his face when he nods and turns away, delivering a quiet order to a passing server holding a champagne tray. The young man retreats quickly through the servant's door that leads to the kitchens. "Thank you." I say quietly.

 

He laughs lightly, and I already know what he will say. "You're nearly a different person, these days, you know."

 

"No, Han, I don't know."

 

He ignores my cold glare and retreats back into the crowd without further comment. _That damn Hanji,_ I think. _Always seeing what I want to hide_. I push back my agreements; that I am indeed quite different. I’ve known it for weeks now. Eren’s presence has brought us all some form of relief. I’ve been less angry, and I suspect not just due to our secretive nighttime romps. Hanji has been more approachable, and no longer looks at the slave girls as coldly. Even Annie, who hardly acknowledges anyone, goes out of her way to give him direction and tutelage. Then, there is Petra, the fiery slave who shouldn’t even _be_ here any longer, yet I cannot get rid of. Her and the other slaves aren’t as cold, or unwilling when I call on them. In fact, I’m calling on them less and less, no doubt thanks to Eren, somehow. All in all, now that we have him and he has changed us for the better, we cannot risk his presence at this ball.

 

I take a few sips of my glass, but abandon it shortly after. It wouldn't be wise to overindulge. Eventually I am beckoned into the swaying mass of bodies for more formalities, and reluctantly engage in a dance or two with some young and _very_ desperate nouveau riche girls. Desperate, certainly, to be barking up _my_ tree, of all in this forest. Although I enjoy music and dance when in private, I have never enjoyed dancing at any such event, and find myself growing weary. In this boring manner, the time ticks by in uneventful agony.

 

As I wade through a thick group of bodies, attempting to make my way off of the dance floor after what must be my fifth round with a clingy young thing, I am stopped abruptly by a man as I pass. His hand is tight and demanding on my shoulder.

 

"Master Ackerman! Just the man I was searching for!" I turn and focus on the face I had previously tried passing without a glance. His face is squared and stern, matching the thick display of muscles outlined by his fine suit. The blonde hair atop his head is cut close to the scalp. _This man is..._

 

"It's Reiner, sir. We met briefly a few weeks ago." He takes my hand in his and shakes it unapologetically. I don't return his stern grip, and when the awkward shake is over I turn to leave after mumbling a greeting. _Who brings a servant to a ball!?_ _I must’nt speak with him; I could give myself away…_

 

The large hand is back again, this time gripping my elbow painfully. I'm moments away from spinning on him with a violent fist, outraged and unbelieving of his rude behavior, when a fat noble appears in front of me and stops just inches from my trembling body.

 

"Master Ackerman, so good to see you." He smiles, revealing crooked teeth stained from years of poor hygiene. I can smell the booze on his breath, and it isn’t the smell of the fine champagne being served here; he’s likely been drinking all day. Reiner’s hand loosens from my arm, and when I glance backwards, he is already melting back into the crowd. “I’ve been trying to catch hold of you all evening. How are you enjoying the ball? Everyone seems to be in good spirits, despite their original… apprehension.” He says the last word slowly, as if he is afraid to speak it, yet the bite in his tone tells me he knows exactly what he is saying.

 

“It’s loud, foul-smelling, and pointless.” _Much like every part of you,_ I fight not to say aloud.

 

He laughs too loudly, obviously performing, and nods his head. “I thought you may feel that way. It almost makes me want to apologize for the nomination.” He pulls a silver flask from his waist pocket and begins to unscrew the cap.

 

“I had wondered who would be insane enough to nominate _me_ as the host of this ball, considering I never attend them myself.” I ignore the stench of alcohol that wafts towards me when he takes a swig, but can’t contain a cringe when he wipes his mustache with a sleeve.

 

“That’s just it, Master! If you never attend them, you won’t have any fun! This way, you get to remain a hermit while keeping up appearances, no?” His feet shift awkwardly under his weight, or the weight of inebriation.

 

I smile politely in the face of his insult, however true it may be, but there is obvious annoyance bubbling inside me. “Very true, good sir.” I take a glass from a tray as it passes near my head, not seeing the servant attached to it. _Perhaps I could use more drink, afterall._ “Tell me, did you manage to find that young heir of yours? Your servant seemed quite concerned when he came to our door, and I _do_ hope everything’s alright.” I hope my voice holds just enough politeness within the sarcasm to keep him from growing suspicious of me. It doesn’t seem to matter, however, as his face never shows anything but the same sloppy-with-drink smile he has held since appearing before me. I take long sips of my fruity alcohol, hiding my own expression from his searching eyes.

 

His mouth opens to speak, but he hesitates just as I feel the warmth of a body very close to my shoulder. I hear Hanji’s voice, low and steady in my ear. “Would you like me to take care of this, Master? I can call you away under false circumstances, if you’d like.” When he leans away I merely nod my head appreciatively and decline.

 

“Thank you Hanji, that will be all.” He bows and departs, but the slimy eyes of my unwanted companion follow him steadily. I watch his eyes focus in and out in thought, and wonder what he sees there in my servant. A shiver goes through me. After a long silence, he seems to find himself again, forgetting Hanji in favor of the previous topic.

 

“Thank you for your concern. We have not yet found the boy, but I have a few leads. I believe he will be back in my care very soon.” His placid smile sharpens then, looking devious and knowing. No longer does he appear as only an unwashed drunkard, but as the sort of intellectual who shows you exactly what he wants you to see. Suddenly I realize that he has been playing a game with me, and it both terrifies and excites me. The booze are real, yes, but their effect on his mind exaggerated. He is well aware of his surroundings, and I am in his sights.

 

As I formulate a response, the next move atop the chess board, his servant appears at his side much like Hanji had done to me. He whispers something, and I imagine it’s also quite similar to Hanji’s question, as when he recedes the noble man is nodding his head. “Very well, Reiner, I shall be right over.” He tips his flask in my direction, mimicking a toast. “It would seem that my conversation is needed elsewhere, Master Ackerman. Great seeing you.”

 

I watch as he sways while he turns, back to playing the silly drunkard, and bite back my rage. _Why!? Why did Eren have to bring such a vile man into my house…!_ After a deep breath to calm myself- _No, it isn’t Eren’s fault he was cursed with such a disgusting Master before me-_ I find I am calling out to his back with a cold, calm voice. “I’m embarrassed to say that I cannot recall your name, sir.”

 

He turns his falsely-drunken smile to me but his eyes are sharp as daggers. “That’s quite alright, Master; I’m not the most memorable of folk. It’s Dimo! Dimo Reeves.”

 

I find the servant’s door to the kitchens in seconds. The crowd of nobles is sickening and the music is too loud in my ears. The quiet of the kitchen allows me a moment to process, and it doesn’t take long for Hanji to join me in the corner.

 

“Are you alright, Master?”

 

“How is Eren?” The words shoot from me without pretense. I cannot stand that I must remain at this wretched ball any longer, not while Eren sits alone and in danger. As hard as I find it to admit these things to myself, my mouth seems to spit them at Hanji regardless. Our whispers are harsh and hurried.

 

“His dinner was delivered to him without incident, Master. I was told that he seemed quite content, reading by the window. There is no need to fret.”

 

His hand squeezes my arm and he smiles gently, trying in his way to calm me. Although it does not calm me, I am reassured that Eren will be alright, and head back into the loud ballroom. I watch my staff work fluidly to replace the contents of the many tables around the room; adjusting from piles of fruits and hors d’oeuvres to the main courses of roasted duck and pig, accompanied by seasoned potato dishes and breads. The smell of perfumes and sweat are finally fading under the scents of dinner, much to my delight.

 

I make my way to the orchestra and whisper to the conductor, instructing him to switch to a quiet melody suitable for digesting. My guests take the hint as soon as the soft tunes drift over the dance floor, and they begin to settle into the many round tables outlining the room, filling nearly every seat as my staff serves their meals. I take my own small portion at a corner table, and stay there long after the meal has ended.

 

The guests have returned to their dancing hours later, after dessert and another round of drinks have gone by. The music has circled around, and the Rosewall Orchestra is back to playing the waltz they first began the evening with. I try not to think about all of the expenses I’ve tallied while planning this blasted thing; Internationally-known orchestras be damned. My eyes continually scan the room, watching faces and reading lips. I keep my eye on Master Reiss and his servant for most of the evening, but lose them often in the crowd. As one of my own staff approaches me- a young maid I often see with Annie, it occurs to me that I haven’t seen them emerge from the mass of dancing bodies in a while.

 

“Master, a word.” She approaches cautiously, but it is obvious that she believes her word is urgent. I allow her to lean into my ear, still refusing to leave my seat. “ _Master, I’ve just seen two men out in the halls. They appeared to be looking through the rooms!”_ Her whisper is hardly so; hoarse and strained in my eardrum. When the shock of her voice in my head dies down, I process her words and what they mean. Not for her, as she likely just thinks they mean to steal some valuables, but for me: that they could steal something much more valuable  than anything kept in my offices.

 

I stand abruptly, throwing both her and my own chair off balance in the process. “Master, the girls-“

 

“Not them.” I say, cutting her off. _They aren’t here for the_ girls, _but for the boy._

 

My feet slam the ground heavily and quickly, causing an obvious disturbance to those near me as I pass through the large room. Most look away and pretend they don’t see me, afraid of the wrath so obviously thick on my skin. I emerge into the large hallway and see no signs of the men. I feel no need to check the rooms. I know where they are going.

 

Each step of the spiral brings me closer to Eren, but all I register is the drumming of my own heartbeat in my ears. I feel anger, as familiar to me as any of my favored suits; an armor I use to cover my naked flesh day after day. But above that, I feel fear; nervous fear and a heartache in my chest so unfamiliar I almost can’t recall the last time I’d felt it.

 

 _Just like he killed the others…_ Just like he killed the others… _Just like he killed the others…_

Eren’s words echo through me; said in his same sweet voice, with the same terror on his tongue, over and over.

 

 _What has he done to you?_     What has he done to you?    _What has he done to you?_

My own voice echoes along with it, remembering the first time I saw that cursed brand along his sweet and supple skin; how it accompanied his trembling fingers.

 

My hand shakes on the wooden railing and I squeeze it until my knuckles go white each time I take a step. When I reach the top of the stairs that lead directly to my chamber, the only thing found on this floor, I see my door left ajar; within it, only darkness. Through the sound of my own deafening pulse, I hear nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I have been slowly writing this chapter in between the events of my busy schedule, and only just realized it's been nearly a month since my last update. My apologies! I usually try to be more prompt with my updates, but since I knew I was writing this one I guess I got sloppy! Dx


	10. The Victim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy was trapped by his fear. Only one man could set him free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update, already!? Oh my, oh my. After the emotional comments on the last chapter, I just couldn't leave you all hanging!
> 
> I don't think I have to say this by now, but I will.  
> Warnings for mentions of excessive violence/abuse, non-con with a minor, etc.  
> If you squint, you'll recognize some characters and I hope you don't hate me too much for it.

**Chapter Ten**

**The Victim**

The night of the ball had been one of the worst nights of my life. Even after many years of living safely and happily, its very memory had choked me in my sleep and nipped at my heels in everyday moments. It took a great deal of time and patience for me to move on from that night.

 

As the afternoon hours ticked by on the old grandfather clock in the lobby, I grew more and more restless. When the time came for me to find solitary confinement, it was actually a great relief. I was surprised when Hanji led me up to Master’s chamber, where Master himself sat waiting in his favorite reading chair. “You’ll stay here, Eren. It is the farthest place from the ballroom and only a select few will have a key to the lock. Be silent, and wait. We will come and get you when the evening has ended.” His tone was level and stern; it was that same tone that always went straight into my bones, making them bend to his will like the limbs of a marionette.

 

I spent the majority of my time pacing on the pads of my bare feet; being as silent as possible while utterly and completely anxious. The voices of the party began to drift up through the floorboards even from so far below me, and I could hear the jovial laughter as if it were poking fun at me. _The weak, useless boy, hiding from some silly, fat man._ They would say, if they knew. Everyone always thought my previous master to be a silly fool, until he let them see his true self. He was a cunning man; he had to be, in order to keep his filthy lifestyle a secret. It was that cunning that convinced so many families to sell their sons to him as servants, failing in poverty as they were and hoping to give their children a last hope for a good life. Cunning that kept the families from checking in, from writing, from sending gifts. He got them, in time, to get the families to forget.

 

I stop my pacing and fight my body into a chair- Master’s favorite chair, where I can envelop myself in his scent and pretend that he is in the room with me, protecting me. The book he gifted me is clutched tightly in my hands, like a lifeline, and I am nearly halfway through it. The soft sound of the pages turning and the single flickering candle flame overtake my hearing; drowning out the sounds from below as if hypnotizing me. Eventually my heart has calmed it’s hammering, and I find my tense muscles relaxing into the plush seat. I have no idea how long has passed when a small knock sounds from the door, and the sound of a key turning pulls me away from the story.

 

My heart picks up its relentless pace again as my nerves get the best of me, but then Hanji’s head peeks around the frame. I feel myself melt back in the seat, like a deflated balloon, and the large sigh I let out only furthers the metaphor. “How are you holding up, Eren?”

 

I look into Hanji’s eyes, much softer now than when we first met, and see small glimpses of the woman he could have been. I have spent so long seeing Hanji as a man that the feeling is so strange inside and it makes it hard to look directly at him. I think he senses it.

 

“Are you going to keep avoiding eye contact forever?” Polished black shoes appear over the floorboards I’ve suddenly found interesting.

 

“I-I’m sorry. It’s just a little strange. I don’t want to upset you.”

 

“You’ll upset me more by acting like I’m _diseased_.”

 

I look up to his face then, and I see the hurt there. It is odd, because Hanji has such a practiced mask that it often rivals Master Levi’s. I don’t like the look on his beautiful face. “Help me understand, then. I can’t stop calling you _he_ and _him_ in my mind, but when I look at you-…” I trail off, not sure where to go. A large hand ruffles the hair on my head tenderly.

 

“Since you arrived, Eren, this whole house is upside down. Somehow I knew it would only be a matter of time until my secret was revealed. I only ask that you not tell anyone. Everything that Master Levi has built for us would come crashing down, if certain things don’t stay secret.” His pained face attempts a smile, but it’s crooked and half-hearted. “As for what you say in your mind that is all up to you. But I’d appreciate it if you could forget what you saw, and go back to only seeing me as a man. That is the way I prefer it.” I nod, feeling his hand press my hair down flat.

 

“You are just Hanji to me. My teacher, and my friend. Of course I can forget it, if that’s what makes you happy.”

 

He smiles a real smile and backs away; back to student and teacher. “It does. Can I get you anything?” I shake my head and thank him, and he leaves quietly. I don’t settle back in to my book until I hear the lock click back in to place.

 

My conversation with Hanji replays in my head, distracting me so that I have to read over a few sentences twice. I decide that regardless of what Hanji has under his clothing, he is still a man if that is what he wants to be. I blush with happy emotion, thinking of how much closer I feel to him now, and how much warmer he seems to be around me.

 

Another hour or so passes and I hear a knock again, but when it opens it is not my teacher I see. A lanky looking servant comes in with a platter of fine food- obviously from the ball’s menu. He pours me a glass of champagne before I can decline it, and disappears quickly. The food smells divine, but I still have little appetite thanks to my nerves, so I only manage a few nibbles. The champagne glass sweats next to my meal, looking lonely and inviting. I’ve never had alcohol before, nor do I know the legal drinking age. When I nervously take a sip, I am greeted with a delightful fruity taste that fizzes on my tongue, and empty the glass quickly.

 

Minutes later, I can already see the influence of the alcohol in my vision. The words of my book are impossible to read as they sway to and fro, and whenever I lift my hand to turn a page it moves strangely, looking foreign to me. I feel a cold sweat creeping up on me, and loosen the top buttons of my shirt; silently hoping that Master doesn’t suddenly make a visit and see it. The bow tie around my neck comes loose with ease and I sling it over the back of the chair roughly as punishment for clinging too tight to my throat.

 

I have no concept of time once under the influence of drink. All I know is that my single candle is burning low, and the food is cold when again there are footsteps on the stairs outside the door. I watch the shadows move under the crack of the door and await the knock that always comes before the sound of the key in the lock. It doesn’t come.

 

Instead, the doorknob is twisted sloppily and the wood shakes with the force of a push. I freeze in my place for a moment, hovering over my seat, halfway out and halfway in. _I heard two sets of footsteps._ There were two people out there. _They didn’t knock._ They tried to come in unannounced. _They are trying to open a locked door._ Neither of these people possesses a key. _They are uninvited._ They are not allowed. _They are…._

 

I snuff out the candle and straighten fully on my feet. I sway immediately, and curse the champagne, swearing off alcohol for the rest of my life. With a quick glance around the room I spot only one hiding place I can fit- under the bed. _What are you, Eren, a child!?_ I sloppily walk to the closet and open the door as quietly as I can in my haste. It creaks, as it always does and I knew it would, as I close it again behind me. Again I find myself hiding from these men in a closet, behind a layer of old coats that smell of mothballs. _Why must life bring me around in circles?_

 

The heart that had finally calmed is now in overdrive; beating painfully in my chest as if to make up for lost time. The cold alcoholic sweat is now hot and sticky, and my breath blasts me in the face over and over again, with nowhere to go among the dusty cloth around me. I feel claustrophobic. I feel like I am already back in their grip, back in that disgusting house, down in the tight crawlspace of a basement that isn’t big enough for one person; let alone myself and the others. _Only it’s just me now. I wouldn’t have to share. Because the others are-_

 

I hear a bang on the door, although muffled, and I’m positive it’s Reiner’s large muscles at work.

 

_DEAD. They are dead. And it is my turn. I’ll end up like The Boy With No Teeth!_

I see images of his tall, lanky form huddled in our small space. His skin is dark from dirt, but I can see spots of his pale complexion peeking through. His dark hair was always disheveled, but Master had let him keep it short, and his bright eyes always looked stony and determined. I admired that look; adopted it as my own as time went on. He taught me that I could be strong, even if I was hurt. I try to summon that strength now, but the heavy coats pressing me into the closet wall seem to stomp down my willpower.

 

_Remember what Princess once said to you? Remember how you promised each other a journey?_

 

Princess was the only one of us who had long hair. It was a beautiful blonde color and it made his eyes gleam even when they were sad. Master used to dress him up like a doll and show him to us, hoping we would make fun of him for it. He fed off of our despair. Of course we didn’t; we were all dolls to Master. One night Master had dressed _me_ up in a gown, and sent me downstairs in it after he had finished fucking me. Princess just took my hand and smiled a sad smile, and distracted me with stories of his home town by the sea. We said we’d go together. Princess taught me that there’s more to this world than dirty basements and horny old men.

 

The door gives a painful groan when the wood splits. It is loud and clearly audible through the closet door and thick coats. I wonder if anyone heard it and is coming to investigate, or if this is where I will die; in my new Master’s closet next to the trunk of toys that have captured me while setting me free. How ironic.

 

“There. There’s food on the table, Master.” I hear Reiner’s familiar voice rumbling deep in my bones. I hate him for being such a willing helper. “And the candle’s still warm.”

 

“He’s here. Find him.”

 

 _That voice_.

 

_“He’s here, find him!!” Master had said._

_We’d spent hours combing the house for No Kidding, before he’d been given the name No Kidding. He’d disappeared after a morning session with Master, never showing up in the basement as he’d been told. All of the staff and us slaves still present- a much smaller number than Master Levi’s group, but it was a smaller house- were made to search every space in the house big enough for a body. Eventually he was found out back, in the yard, chasing around the goats and chickens like it was a game. I remember seeing his shaved head bouncing around on the other side of the livestock fence, and I could hear his laughter. When Master got a hold of him, he nearly died. He was chained down in our basement permanently then- that is, until his seventeenth birthday._

_“Why did you do it?” Princess asked him once he was well enough to speak. “And if you were out, why on Earth didn’t you run away!?” He looked genuinely alarmed and upset over what had happened._

_“I just wanted a bit of fun. I can survive everything else… but never having a laugh… never having a_ reason _to laugh, that’s the hard part. Besides… I don’t have anywhere to go.”_

_That’s when we started calling him No Kidding, because now that he was chained up, he couldn’t sneak out to have his laughs anymore._

Now _I_ don’t have anywhere to go.

 

The sounds of shuffling feet and furniture scraping the floorboards eventually halt, and I feel my breath halt in my throat along with it. The room is completely silent suddenly, and I fear I may piss myself any moment. If I could see through walls, I’m positive I would see the two offending men sneaking towards the closet door as if it were a volatile animal.

 

The silence is deafening, as they say, and it drones on for the longest moment of my sure-to-be-short life.

 

“Good evening, again, Mr. Reeves.” Master’s voice is intentionally loud, and dripping with malice. I jump just slightly, but manage a relieved breath. My lungs are grateful. “To _what_ -“ I can hear the controlled rage even through the muffling layers between us. I have never been so happy to hear my Master angry before. “-do I owe this visit to _my_ chamber?”

 

There is a long pause where they are likely shuffling, scattering, like flies from a free meal, and I hear the low sounds of their sloppy excuses. I cannot make out any more words, and in moments it is completely silent again.

 

The sweat drips down my body, tickling my skin uncomfortably. I don’t dare move until I am either positively dying or saved. In the stretching calm, my heart slows again and my breathing grows even. I hear footsteps at last, and the door to the closet opens.

 

“Eren?” Master’s voice is low, practically pleading with me to be in this dark corner. I slide the barrier of clothing apart and take deep gasps of fresh air. “ _Eren._ ” His hands are on my shoulders faster than I can focus my eyes on him, his grip tight and steady. I am certain that I will fall to pieces if he ever lets me go. “Are you alright? They didn’t find you, did they?” The relief of being in his presence is dizzying, and all I can do to stop it is to stare hard into his eyes while I try to speak.

 

“I… I’m okay. I’m alright.” He visibly relaxes, his grip loosening and his shoulders hunching as he releases a breath. I watch, perplexed by his reaction, as he stands up tall and dusts his clothing that isn’t dusty. “They didn’t get me… but I think they know I’m here. At least, they know someone is here. Someone you wanted to hide.” I stand on shaky legs and follow him into the room. I see Hanji in the doorway, inspecting the splintered door frame silently.

 

“I know, it’s alright. I don’t think they will attempt anything again any time soon.” He eyes the table I’d abandoned, my food left mostly untouched and the champagne glass emptied, as well as my bow tie slung over the back of his favored chair. His eyes dart back to my neck and I reflexively fist my hand into my shirt, holding the loose buttons closed. I watch his pupils shift with emotions he won’t show on his face until he seems to settle on a softer one that I’ve never seen from him before. I am frozen down to the blood in my veins when his cool fingertips brush away my hand, and begin re-buttoning my shirt for me. My pulse is back to a hammer for a very different reason now, and I feel a sickly tickle in my stomach that makes me inexplicably giddy. When his hands have moved away, I find air again. “I must return to the party. Remain here. There will be someone guarding the door from now on.” He backs away from me as if suddenly nervous, but spares a stern glance at the table. “Eat something.” I watch him leave, feeling nauseous from emotional strain and quite possibly the champagne I’m sweating out. The door closes with a painful grating of twisted metal hinges and splintered wood. There’s a gap between the handle and the frame just wide enough to let in light, and I can see Hanji on the other side of it, like an immovable sentinel.

 

 

 

 

I pick at my cold dinner and Hanji delivers me a glass of cold water, which I drink greedily. I don’t pick up my book again, as concentrating is the last thing I will be able to do next to sleeping or laughing. Instead I sit in the chair again, wrapped in Master’s scent and imagining the ghost of his fingertips, gentle on my neck and migrating around the sensitive parts of my flesh. I know that will not happen. Master wants only my submission and his calculated release. My own pleasure is not on his mind, and I would never ask it to be. Still, I can imagine it, if only for comfort and distraction while alone in his private room.

 

It is well after midnight when the noise from downstairs subsides and Master’s steady footsteps climb the spiral. I had drifted at some point in the night, in the comfort of the chair, and the sudden shift in sounds brings me from the threshold of sleep quickly; my body still on high alert from the evening’s events. When he enters the room, I spot the servant at the door- Hanji’s replacement, as they descend, leaving us alone. The ruined door sounds haunting as he closes it calmly.

 

His face is a mask again. There is no sign of the inner turmoil I glimpsed hours before. He is the controller again. He is the Master, and I am the servant so deeply in his debt that I am drowning; begging to be saved.

 

Before he even opens his mouth to speak, I am back in the dark closet. My hands find the familiar leather handle of the trunk and haul it out to the center of the room. I don’t look at his face, or even his feet. I watch only my own hands work at the locks with the keys that now hang permanently around my neck. When the top flips open on well-oiled hinges, I back away and stand with my shoulders hunched. My eyes look at the floor, off to the side where my neck is exposed to him. _I am in the presence of the alpha_. Somehow I am not afraid, or even nervous, as I normally am. Although it is always a nervous excitement, right now it is just plain excitement energizing my veins. Suddenly, I am confident that I will do well and that my master will be pleased. His dress shoes tap menacingly on the rug as he examines first the trunk and then me, as if it is all new to him. The corners of my vision blur, but I almost make out his face that seems to be amused.

 

“Very good, Eren.” The sultry tone is nearly a purr, sending the tickle back into my belly and lighting a fire inside of me. “I love that you know just what I want.” He circles me like a predator, so close I can feel his warmth. “Tell me, Eren. What do I want you to do now?”

 

I swallow and feel my tongue stick in my dry mouth. His words dance around my ear, breathy and daring. I have no idea if this is one of those rare moments he is ordering me to speak, or if he is asking himself the question more than me. After a moment of silence, I get my answer in the form of his foot on the back of my knee. The impact isn’t hard enough to injure, just a push to get me to my knees. “Speak.” His mouth is centimeters from the shell of my ear, and I begin to suspect he is teasing me quite purposefully. “What do I want you to _do_ , Eren?” My name is like a mantra, and every time he uses it I am less and less  _me,_ and more and more  _his._

 

I give another thick swallow of my nerves and lace my fingers behind my back. My forehead bows down until it touches the floor, exposing my wrists and neck and displaying them for him in a way I suspect he will like. I am intoxicated, and I am positive the champagne is no longer in my system.

 

“Submit, Master.” I give him his answer, and am rewarded with a dark chuckle that shoots straight into my groin.

 

“That’s right, Eren. Good boy.”

 

 

 

\----

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter, if you couldn't tell, will be NSFW. <3  
> I really felt my heart flutter when Master Levi reached out to fix Eren's collar. It was like... this is it! The moment he realizes that his feelings have changed into something new and dangerous....
> 
> As for Eren's art, I wanted to capture something I had a hard time putting in to words. It was kind of the moment for him where he came to understand his own feelings as well. I think this entire time, Eren has been more open to his feelings than Master has, but here is where he really accepts their relationship as 'enough'; like, he would be happy always being by Levi's side this way, so he does everything he can to appease him.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed.


	11. The Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master felt utterly defenseless. The boy was becoming a man.

**Chapter Eleven**

**The Trapped**

Eren is an enigma. Each and every moment I spend with him serves only to perplex and frustrate me. At the same time, however, I am completely free. Eren allows me whatever I like. He never cries or refuses. Often times, I even sense that he craves it as much as I do. It’s almost sickening to have found someone twisted like myself.

 

That damned Ball was nearly the death of me. Having put so much energy into playing host, interacting with countless boring and petty nobles, making decision after decision over pointless things like appetizers and alcohol flavors, I was already quite on my last string of sanity. Then, those damn filthy thieves tried to come into my chamber- _my sanctuary!_ \- and take Eren? Right from under my nose, they would take my only form of relief from this very evening of utter unrest. I was livid. Each stomp up the steps of the spiral would have surely broken the wood to splinters if the supernatural existed.

 

Yet, when Eren’s small face revealed itself to me from the back of my dark closet, all of that anger quickly faded. I saw the shaking of his frame, rattling every inch of his skin, bones, and breath, and nearly melted with relief that he was _here,_ and _alive._ Before I knew what was becoming of me, I had my hands over him; gripping him tightly to ensure he was whole and not a delusion brought upon me by my straining nerves. He seemed equally relieved, nearly to the point of tears, at my arrival. I could feel him relax beneath my tight grip despite that it was likely painful. I don’t understand what changes occurred within me then, but it was terrifying. As a man who makes it a point to no longer fear anything, this feeling had me reaching back to anger again; my default. My defense. If I was angry, I was powerful. If I was powerful, no one could take control from me. I must be in control.

 

Again, the circle of anger and control swirls through my thoughts as I stare down at Eren’s naked form. Why is it that I felt such fear that he’d been hurt by those men, when here I stood, whipping Eren with my own riding crop on his bare, sensitive flesh? I watch his chest heave in effort, yet his eyes are closed almost peacefully each time the pain subsides.

 

_Why don’t you cry for me, Eren? Give me what I need!_

 

Somehow, the mantra has become a part of me. The very things that I hated about that man have become me. I am obsessed with Eren’s ability to withhold his tears. I know that I do not truly want to see him cry, because the twisted part of me will hate him for it. Above that, however, I _need_ to see him cry, so that I know he is just as weak as I once was, and therefore no better than I.

 

Perhaps my obsession with Eren has grown because he is very much like myself. I wonder if one day he will grow as terrible as I have. I wonder if I will be the cause of his changes, like that man was to me.

 

The slap of the riding crop across his shoulder blade helps me to concentrate on the now. There are many small red marks across his back and ass, but all Eren does is gasp and wiggle against the bedsheets. I see his cock twitch between his legs each time I drag the leather tip over his spine. His lack of hurt and the obvious presence of pleasure baffles  me.

 

“Not six hours ago, you were close to escaping me, Eren. You could have run off with those men.” The riding crop hangs loosely at my side, forgotten in my moment of thought. To this, he responds. His entire body tightens up at the reminder of the evening’s events, and I hear a whimper from somewhere in the sheets he’s buried his face under. “You didn’t. In fact, you seemed quite happy to see me. You are also quite happy to submit to me, it seems. You enthusiastically presented yourself to me tonight, and here we are.” His head nods in shy agreement, and I glimpse small patches of blushing cheeks before they are buried again. “Why, Eren?” The sound is almost pleading, and I hate myself for asking it. “Why don’t you hate me? Why don’t you seek revenge, or fight it, or cry, or curse, or… anything!?” The leather comes across an old wound, causing him to jump and cry out.

 

His form tightens nearly into a ball atop my bed, bearing the pain and riding it out. When the wave has passed, he relaxes into the sheets again; legs extended completely so that his ass is no longer in the air, but he lays flat into the mattress. His face remains buried in the sheets, but I see no indication that he is crying, still. I have spent months now trying to get Eren to break. To be weak. Despite his position as a slave, or our sessions here in my room, he holds onto some sense of confidence that I will never comprehend. Watching him now, even in the face of my interrogation, holding onto some shred of pride that I wasn’t able to… I feel my desire for those tears slip away. It is like my bones have gone tired waiting for him, and have just lost all of their strength. Eren is a rock that will not break under my weight.

 

I sigh for effect and attempt one final act of coercion. “Perhaps you cannot give me what I want, afterall. It is a shame. I had high hopes for you.” I toss the riding crop to the floor and step to the side, as if opening a path for him. “Leave, Eren.” His face emerges from the sheets at last, looking red and confused. His brow creases as he looks around the room, as if he has only just remembered where we are. Slowly, carefully, he rises from the mattress. His eyes meet mine, and he is hurt. I see it. I wanted it. Yet, his pain hurts me in return. My breath is caught in my lungs as I wait, watching, to see what he will do. Will he leave as I have ordered? Will he fight me and defend himself? Eren has always been obedient, but behind it seems to hide a strong desire. A caged dog waiting for the moment to strike. An enigma.

 

With a glance at the abandoned riding crop, his expression deflates. I watch as first one foot, then the other, hits the wooden floorboards on the side of my bed. His eyes no longer meet mine, but he doesn’t move any farther. We wait in silence until finally he summons the confidence I knew he held. “Master, I-…” His eyes dart about the room, unsure where to sit, until they meet my own.

 

“Speak, Eren. It is the last time I will allow you to.” I want to mean it. I want to dismiss Eren from my room permanently, so that I can forget about the strange changes he has caused inside of me and go back to being the monster without a conscience. The command comes out more as a sad comment.

 

I watch the crease in his brows deepen as he registers the words. His eyes shift again and the corners of his mouth twitch down into a frown. Finally, he looks into my eyes just as his own start to water. _Finally!_ I think, maybe this was the push he needed. All I need is for Eren to cry – to be weak – so that I can remember what it is like to be the one in _control_.

 

And then I realize, once again, that I am not the one in control.

 

Eren has had complete control over me since he first burst through my door.

 

His voice comes out broken and hurt, but loud in the silence of the night. “I could never hate you, Master. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” His eyes are watery, and so close to truly creating tears, which is all I have wanted and yet not what I want at all. His words make me dizzy, but it could just be that I’ve stopped breathing.

 

Suddenly, I don’t want to speak anymore. And I don’t want him to leave anymore, which is what he is attempting to do; like the obedient servant he has always been. I grab him by the wrist and force him to drop that cursed dress shirt he always wears to see me. His body gives in to me so easily that I can’t believe it has taken me this long to understand it. Eren really does accept this insane situation, and welcomes it. He wants the punishment and the praise as much as I want to give it. I resolve to praise him endlessly when this is all over even as I roughly force him back onto the bed.

 

The first time I had sex with Eren, I was so angry and confused that I took him nearly instantly; his knees pressed into his chest and all of the embarrassing expressions on his face looking right at me. This is the second time that Eren and I had sex, and I couldn’t look into his eyes. My confusion at wanting a man was palpable the first time, and suffocating the second. I didn’t understand then, and it was only worse now. This time, I wasn’t drowning in my rage. I am in my right mind, for the moment, and yet still I want this man beneath me; writhing and sloppy with our sex.

 

He feels my intentions in that strange way he always manages; obeying the unsaid command my hand gives when I bend him over the edge of the bed. Already, our bodies are responding to the anticipation of what we know is to come. My heart pounds brutally in my chest as I slick his hole and test it with a few fingers. He has grown tight in the months he has been with me. Aside from the rare occasion in which I have used the wooden beads to assert my control over him, I have left his hole quite alone for fear of giving him too much pleasure. The muscles inside grip my fingers hungrily, and I feel my own cock twitch at the memory of being inside of him.

 

I don’t stop to try and understand these strange thoughts and feelings. I have begun to accept that Eren has changed me. I have gone too long without proper sex, and perhaps this is just the breaking point. Or so I tell myself.

 

Eren doesn’t hide his pleasured moan in the sheets as I expect him to. I slip inside, his lewd sounds echoing through my room unhindered. I feel his bony hips under my hands and watch the soft curve of his ass bounce as I thrust roughly in and out. There is no time to stop and think as we lose ourselves in something we both have been denied: free pleasure. My pleasure in Eren has always been in the form of bondage, and submittal, and control, and pain. But now – only now – we find ourselves fucking for the pure hell of it. I am not doing this to hurt him, or control him, but to feel the pleasure of him, and it is strange and new to me.

 

Eren could have continued out of that broken door. He knew, I’m sure, that my grip on his wrist wasn’t there to force him, but to _tell_ him. He didn’t leave. Just like when he willingly submits to my overbearing nature, he is accepting me now. Eren also wants this, for reasons I will never fully understand.

 

His voice comes out lusty and utterly _raw_. I know that I am hitting his sweet spot. As sick as it makes me to recall the past, I realize now that it gave me the knowledge for this moment. I know just the way to make Eren really _feel_ me. I come to the shocking realization that I want to make Eren feel good so that he will remember me well. I want to be the best thing that has ever happened to him, always – because I know that I will never forget him, and it would just piss me off if it wasn’t mutual.

 

I reach my hand around to his length, and find him hard and ready. The move isn’t easy; Eren has grown quite a few inches taller in just these few months that he has been with us, and the difference in height makes it awkward. Regardless, I time my pumping fist with my thrusts and lose myself in his whorish sounds of approval.

 

It becomes apparent that I will not last very long, and Eren seems completely lost in his pleasure, mumbling unhelpful things like, “Yes, Master! _Right there!_ ” and “Ohhh, yes, faster…”, quickly sending me to the edge. I thrust hard into his perfect ass and grip his cock tightly, mumbling things of my own into his spine as we find each other’s rhythm positively intoxicating. “Master, I-… ahhh, I feel-…”

 

He sounds uncertain, but cuts himself off as he releases into my palm. The sweet sound of his gasping release helps me find my own, and I don’t hesitate to press deeply inside of him as I do. Somehow, I knew I wouldn’t be content without planting that seed as deeply as possible.

 

I slide out of him slowly, relishing in the feeling of freedom I somehow feel. Eren sits up slightly on his shaking legs, looking strangely at his softening cock and then to my hand. I am reminded of our disgusting state, and motion him to the private bathroom just outside of my room; the only other thing on this floor. As we clean separately and in silence, I ignore the odd things flowing through my mind and opt instead to think about nothing. When we’ve finished, Eren is still looking oddly at himself.

 

“Was that your first orgasm, Eren?” My eyes are likely huge in surprise as the realization hits me. He looks at me in near-horror.

 

“That… yes! Yes, it was…” He looks ashamed for a moment before masking it.

 

_At least you were spared one bit of shame by that man’s hand…._

 

“I see.” It’s all I can say, as I have no idea how he feels about having his first orgasm by my hand – literally. Changing the subject becomes my default. “Let’s get dressed, Eren.”

 

He attempts to help me dress before even glancing at his own clothing, but I quickly dismiss his help and we dress at the same time. I decide that the sooner he leaves, the sooner I can sort through my thoughts. He bows after stowing the trunk into the closet and makes for the door. I watch him hesitate in the doorway, peering into the darkness of the spiral staircase like a child in the night. Suddenly I recall he _was_ a child not that long ago, and to him, there really are monsters in the dark. The promise of endless praise I had secretly made would have to wait for another time.

 

I walk Eren as far as the kitchen that hides the entrance to the servant’s quarters.

 

-

 

The next day, I wake to Hanji pulling back the curtains and setting the table with breakfast. I have hardly slept, which he sees plainly on my face.

 

“I thought I would let Eren sleep in this morning, considering last night’s events.”

 

I start for a moment, thinking that perhaps we were too loud, or that Hanji may have seen us through the broken cracks of the door. Then I recall the Noble’s Ball and the issue with Mister Reeves. “That’s fine, Han.” I am too tired for formalities, and too much has suddenly changed inside me. I motion for him to sit down in the chair across from me. He watches me intently and waits for me to begin speaking.

 

“Hanji…. You know that you are my only friend.” It is quiet this morning. The soft light coming in through my window is warm and relaxing; the perfect complement to Hanji’s presence.

 

“You’re acting strange again, Master.” His smirk is playful, and I am momentarily reminded of the Hanji who once smiled freely and laughed loudly while we read books together in my old room. I return it, which seems to truly shock him.

 

“Things have been strange for a while now, haven’t they? I guess I am only just beginning to see just _how_ strange.” I tap a finger against the rim of my teacup, lost in the view from my window.

 

“You’re referring to Eren, aren’t you?” I nod even though he already knows the answer. Hanji leans towards me, as if avoiding an eavesdropper. “You should know, Master, that Eren knows about me.”

 

I am stunned, and immediately on edge, but Hanji’s calm demeanor tells me not to overreact. His slender fingers adjust his glasses gently. “It’s alright, Master. We had a discussion about it, and I don’t think there will be any issue. Eren is… strange.” He laughs lightly at the overuse of the word, and I laugh because there isn’t anything more fitting to us at the moment. “I rather like him, Master. I hope you aren’t being too hard on him.” There is a warm look in his eyes as he watches me, and I suddenly get the feeling that maybe he really _does_ know what we get up to at night.

 

“I don’t believe you need to worry about that, Han. I don’t think Eren would leave even if I forced him to.” The truth there is undeniable, after last evening’s affair; details that Hanji never need know about.

 

“He is well fit where he is, I agree.”

 

“Actually, Han, I believe I am going to reassign him for a while.” I make it a point to look directly into his eyes, so that he knows he shouldn’t argue. It doesn’t work.

 

“But Master, he- ah, that is…” I watch him shift nervously while finding his words. “Is he not serving you well in my place?” Hanji’s concerned expression seems so very out of place that I almost laugh. The irony of my own laughing face being quite out of place as well is not lost on myself.

 

“He is doing just fine, Han, but no one could replace you. I became the master of the house with you by my side, and if you are still quite fine with it, I’d like for you to be there in the end, as well.”

 

“What a grim yet promising thing to say, Master.”

 

We share another smirk and I decide to get back to business. “I plan to have Eren work with the girls. He has brought it to my attention many times that they have had little to no education. I think both he and the girls would be happier working together. I’d like him to teach them the basics of reading and writing, for now.”

 

Hanji just watches me, speechless, for many long minutes. I can see his face go a little pale with the shock. “You really have been strange since he arrived, Master.” It is barely a whisper, and I can tell that Hanji would badly like to ask me what has happened.

 

 “Did you know that he asked me to look at them as people?” I see his eyes grow wide and warm with the thought of Eren, speaking to his Master about such a thing, full of strength and confidence that no other slave has ever shown us; himself included. “At some point I had forgotten what pain they could feel. The things that you had taught me, Hanji. I blocked out those things selfishly.” Remembering Han as the little slave girl isn’t something I do often; it feels too much like a betrayal to the man sitting before me. Even as I speak, he shakes his head slowly.

 

“No, Master… it is I who has been too selfish. I choose every day to forget how well I know their pain. I consciously make the decision to bathe them and groom them, and arrange for their buying and selling, all the while ignoring how well I know their fears. I don’t deny that I am also quite a monster. I think that was my largest fear when Eren discovered me. I don’t think he knows exactly the circumstance, however.”

 

“Then we are both selfish monsters, Han. Fitting friends until the end.”

 

For the remainder of the day, I sit alone in my room. Perhaps I am avoiding Eren, or perhaps I am avoiding Hanji. Both of their faces bring back the past.

 

In Hanji, I see the girl. I see my disgusting uncle as he saunters through the unclean halls, searching for the next victim to his violent behaviors. I see the fear in Hanji’s eyes as she whispers “I’ll be next.”, while the number of slaves in her dirty basement room dwindles down to just her.

 

In Eren, I see the boy. I see my own small frame, dirty and trapped by a cruel man who only sees people as tools and belongings. I see the strength that only comes out when you are an animal cornered by a foe, working desperately to break free and save yourself. At some point I lost the strength to believe in myself, or the good. The child who would stand up to the monster and for the sake of another became a monster himself, beating on a child much like himself out of anger and jealousy.

 

Why am I jealous?

 

_Because Eren is the type who will never let go of that fight in his eyes. Even after years of suffering, he escaped on his own power alone._ I am impressed, I realize.

 

The days move forward and I am continually lost in thought. I must sort through everything I think and feel methodically after being turned so utterly helpless at Eren’s hand. Even when I try not to think about such things, I only end up worse.

 

My memories are a blur of pain and anger, and the only thing good that shines through them is Hanji.

_Her bright smile as you teach her to read and write, and how to tie a proper bowtie and pour a cup of tea. Her frail fingers gripping the hem of her dirty dress; holding it down over her legs so you can’t glance what’s underneath – what she would deny._

_His dirty fingernails digging into the flesh of my arm as he pulls me through the house. The eyes of the terrified staff, watching me take their beatings. Relief in them that no one will die tonight, because he’s chosen_ me _again._

_Her terrified eyes as they lay atop the plush mattress. The stinking fog of alcohol and cigar smoke. The sounds of clothing ruffling and hitting the floor._

_The grimy floor against my knees, hurting and scraping them until they bleed. The evil in his eyes, looking down on me again._

_The haunting sound of her cry, her pleading voice._

_A large stain on the floorboards that won’t wash away._

_Standing in the hall with your servants as the walls are smashed apart._

_A large stain on the floorboards that won’t wash away._

A few days of digging up my past was all it took for the itching, boiling anger to reappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terribly sorry for such a late update. Those of you reading my other story may have already read this note, so I apologize for repetition, but- 
> 
> While away on vacation just after my last update, I received a call that one of my pets had passed away. I had to return promptly to take care of the burial, and have been quite a mess since.
> 
> It was very difficult for me to write anything smutty in this time, and it really slowed me down. I hope my writing hasn't suffered too much, and I apologize for both the delay and any mistakes here.


	12. The Observer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master struggles to come to terms with the things plaguing him. The boy can only watch as he spirals.

**Chapter Eleven**

**The Observer**

“Hhhu…. How… hose?” Ymir looks at me, confusion and annoyance apparent in her eyes.

 

“House.” I correct.

 

“This is stupid.” Her book ends up on the floor shortly after hitting the far wall. I hear many of the girls around giggling, but I can’t bring myself to laugh along with them. I sigh and point to the offended book.

 

“It is not _stupid_ , Ymir. Master has graciously allowed all of you the opportunity for education. Don’t you know what that _means_? Do you even understand how serious the situation is!?” The girls look noticeably shocked by my outburst, while Ymir avoids my eyes by grabbing at the discarded book. In answer to my question, many of them shake their heads.

 

I let them sit in nervous silence for a moment, adjusting my position atop one of the beds and rubbing at my temples. “Our master is… incredibly unique.” I begin. Many of them look at me with obvious confusion, and some even look hurt at the prospect that I may begin to compliment him. “Many of you have never had another master before him, have you? He isn’t like the others. Yes, he is cruel in many ways and twisted. I won’t deny that. But our master cares in other ways…” My thoughts of him begin to drift, remembering the many times he has shown me the layers of himself. There are so many things about him I do not know – may never know, and yet, I know that he is good underneath all of his bad. Petra’s nodding head, agreeing with me so slightly, snaps me back. “He lets you all stay here in nice, clean beds, with clean clothing and fresh meals. You get to be together, and share together. You get daily baths.” I can feel tears stinging my eyes at the memories; living without those luxuries, feeling less than human. “Some of you think it is hard, having to be at the mercy of him every now-and-then, but you have no idea how amazing he is just for supplying those simple things!

 

If any one of Master’s guests ever discovers how nicely he treats you all, the royals will scoff. Everyone believes that giving a slave any hope of something more is a danger to the system; they don’t want us thinking we deserve more. That one discovery would be horrible for his reputation and business. Now, imagine if anyone outside of this house knew that you were all learning to read and write? That he is handing you the power to become something _more._ ” I feel the tears fall, and through the blur, I see many of them doing the same. “This house would _burn._ ”

 

We wipe away our tears in heavy silence. “You may think this is hard now. You’ve only been at it a week. But please – don’t forget what small kindness Master is showing us.” After my dramatic speech, the girls would stay glued to their books for hours.

 

One afternoon, hidden in their room away from the fresh air and sunlight of outdoors, we practiced endlessly. Hanji and other staff would pop in every few hours, offering meals and snacks and other things the girls had a new appreciation for. I see Krista smiling at me, mischief in her eyes, and Ymir watching her, curious.

 

“What are you looking at?” Ymir asks her finally, tiring of the silent game.

 

She points at me, never looking away. “This is because of you, Eren.” Krista bites into a soft roll of bread, as if emphasizing her statement.

 

“What?” Ymir and I ask in unison.

 

“Master has been a lot kinder to us since you got here, Eren. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.” She finishes her roll and continues the uninvited topic. “He calls on us less, and when he does, it isn’t terrible or cruel. That’s something you did for us, I know it is.”

 

The girls all sit around on the many beds, situated so everyone has a view of their new teacher. But now, they aren’t looking on expecting to learn the alphabet. They are looking sly and knowing. If I didn’t love my new post as their instructor, I would be annoyed.

 

“What did you say to him!?” Someone asks.

 

“Did you do something?”

 

“I bet he stood up to Master for us!”

 

They begin chatting loudly, excitedly, imagining all manner of situations in which I, a lowly servant, could persuade our fearsome Master. I offer no confirmations or denials, but a small voice chimes in from the bed next to me.

 

“My parents had a farm.” The room goes silent immediately, looking to the girl who would bring up the past. Most of them seemed to have an unspoken rule; you don’t talk about the past, because it’s in the past. “We were never happy there. Crops didn’t grow, and when they did, they were seized by the military to pay for the taxes we couldn’t afford. One day they came and we had nothing left to offer.” Her small hands hug her knees tightly, and I have to fight the urge to comfort her; a servant should never approach a slave. “Papa decided to sell me and my sisters, thinking we’d be better off in the hands of a rich master, than constantly threatened and ogled by the army men.”

 

With a deep breath, she steadies her small voice. “I thought it would be the end for me. When I came here, I felt so lost and hurt. Master was mean, and sometimes a bit violent; although his reputation was much more fearsome… It is true that things have been much better lately, Eren. I don’t know what you did, but thank you… now, I think I can live a bit happier like my parents wanted.”

 

Another of the girls sits beside her, holding her and petting her hair while she calms. After a while, many of the girls begin to share their stories. Many of them mirror the others; a poor family, shitty parents, kidnappings. The kidnapping stores make me flinch the hardest. I tell them about No Kidding and Princess, and their faces go pale but they seem to understand what I am saying. Our master is someone to be thankful for, despite his many flaws. I don’t tell them about the Boy With No Teeth, because that story is too painful and it would only make their pale faces turn green.

 

Immediately, we feel closer. I realize that these girls are my family now, and this house is where we all hope to stay for good. I see Master less and less, as I busy myself with their lessons and my other usual servant’s duties. Hanji tends to Master personally, as he always had before, and assures me that things are alright. I don’t believe him, because when he says it he won’t look me in the eyes and because the few moments that I do see Master are tight and heavy; full of sharp edges and suffocating silence. Master seems angry, but not at me, and that only makes me worry more. If he were angry at me, all he’d have to do is beat me and things would be fine again.

 

Weeks pass like this, day after day and night after night. During the day it is easy to lose myself in tasks, but the night time now brings darkness even in my heart. Each night I think that I should be meeting with Master. There are no books left for me to read, and even if there were, I am too tired of reading from the lessons. Instead, I lay face down atop my blanket, watching the candle flicker until it dies, leaving a bright stain on my vision.

 

After the events of the ball, I felt torn. I felt terrified and vulnerable. I felt fulfilled and safe. Master and I had sex again, and it had been perfect even though I never realized how badly I had wanted it. The only times in my life that I have welcomed the feeling of a man inside of me have been with Master, and I couldn’t deny myself the reality that I wanted it to happen again. Then, nothing. He stopped calling on me again. The safe feeling of being near him was gone. I walked the dark halls each night wondering if he would walk them with me again, like he did that night, only to realize that dream was so easily naïve. Each day that passed without further interruption from my previous master should have put me at ease, but now I had learned better. It only meant he was biding his time. Plotting and scheming for new ways to get at me. I longed to step outside into the fresh air just once, while staring at that dying candle from my underground room.

 

“Combining words is quite common, and reflects a more casual tone.” I explain to the girls, now perched over sheets of parchment instead of books. “For example, combining the words ‘you’ and ‘will’, when written, will look like this – “ I write the word in large, careful text and hold it up for them to see. “You’ll.” When they have all seen my example, I roll my page up and tuck it away. “Now, I want you each to write my example, and add three of your own.” It is quiet for a while as they each think and scribble, while I watch over shoulders and offer help.

 

“Eren?” Krista calls to me, and I walk eagerly over to her, expecting a question about the work. “How do you know all of this?” The question stops me in my tracks, and she instantly sees the hurt on my face. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know it was… a bad question.” She seems genuinely sorry, and I can’t help but pat her shoulder to say that I am okay.

 

“My family was actually pretty well-off.” Instantly, their eyes are on me. “My father was a well known doctor in my town, and so I was educated from an early age, along with my sister.” I take a seat atop my usual bed, letting the softness of the mattress and memories overtake me. “I was not sold, as many of you were. Not only would that have been illegal and impossible for my family, but they had no need. Instead, I was kidnapped.” Some of them seem shocked by my admission, while others just nod in understanding sadness. “I was eleven, and they were trying to take my sister. We were running through the woods, playing some game, when they caught her and took her to an old cabin. When I heard the scream, I went looking. I don’t think they knew she was with anyone, because my arrival took them by surprise. We fought, and she managed to get away in the midst of it. As payment, they beat me until I couldn’t move and sold me off instead. Said they’d get a higher price for an illegal boy than for a rare asian girl – she was adopted.” Again, their pale faces watch me with wide eyes, and I feel like I really shouldn’t be telling them any more stories of my past. “It’s alright, everyone. Don’t look so hurt. Just like all of you, I thought my life would never look up. Master has helped me to see it differently.”

 

They nod again, and some offer me a hand that I am not allowed to take, but do because no one is here to see it. “Besides… as long as my sister is free and safe, living a good life, it was worth it to me.”

 

“But don’t you want to see them now? You got away from that man! Why didn’t you run home?” Ymir looks angry my stupidity; not going back to a family that would actually want my return. I shake my head at her.

 

“I can’t see them. Not now. It would only hurt them more to know what I have been through… what became of me. It is better if they think I died somewhere years ago, than to know that I spent years in pain and misery. That knowledge would do no one any good. I can’t face them as the man I am now. If I returned only to discover something bad had happened to them, I couldn’t handle it either. It is better if we all stick to our fantasies.”

 

With the pain of our conversations still throbbing in my chest, I return to my room sometime in the late evening hours. My stomach still churns, unable to hold any food but aching to fill the emptiness. When I step inside and close the heavy wooden door behind me, I hear the sound of rustling paper. Under my shining dress shoe lies a crumpled piece of paper that I easily recognize as Master’s high quality stationary. My heart stops beating in the short moment it takes me to snatch it up and read it.

 

_Master requests your assistance in cleaning his chamber at your earliest convenience, regardless of the hour. His temper seems high this evening, so please do hurry._

-          _Hanji_

I was not expecting Hanji’s handwriting, as the previous summons all came from Master himself, left for me in hiding wherever I’ve been assigned to tidy up, or slipped onto his emptied meal tray after dinner. For him to send Hanji with this note directly to my door leaves me feeling nervous and jumpy; the aching I’d felt only minutes earlier quickly replaced and forgotten in the presence of Master’s orders. I shower quickly and dress again.

 

The note could easily be a true summons for assistance, I realize halfway up the spiral. The risk of showing up to his door mistaken is too great, and I duck into the cleaning closet to grab a bucket of supplies and proceed up. When Master beckons me into his door – now a brand new light pine wood with fresh, silent hinges and a more advanced lock, he is visibly shaken.

 

His feet never stop moving as he motions for me to prepare the bucket of supplies for cleaning. He is pacing to and fro, or tapping one foot loudly on the wood of the floor, all the while watching me with twitching eyes. His hands run through his hair so much that I fear alopecia, but appreciate the sight of his hair away from his face for once. I fill the bucket and place it near the doorway, standing at attention for his word.

 

“Remove this rug, Eren. This floor is filthy. I can’t stand to be in this room another second until it is clean!” I can hear the distress in his voice, unlike anything I have heard before. Immediately, I comply. The large circular rug is clearly old; older than me and stinking of age despite regular cleaning. It easily rolls into a tight spiral, and stays in the corner where I prop it. The old wooden floors of Master’s room are not, quite honestly, the least bit dirty. His entire room is carefully cleaned daily, during the hours he spends in his office at work. Although I have cleaned it many times, I have never moved the rug, and so I am seeing his floor naked and exposed for the first time now.

 

It is obvious these floors are old. Unlike the rest of the house that is old but well maintained and renovated when needed, this room seems locked out of time; stuck at some point in the past. The walls are faded and spotty, the window has a permanent yellowed tint to the glass, and the chair cushions grow threadbare by the day. The only things in contrast with their age are the new door, Master’s obviously high-end plush mattress, and us; the Master and the Servant.

 

The naked floor is raw, somehow. The circle where the rug sat is pale from being covered for so many years. It only serves to emphasize the large dark stain in the center of it.

 

“Clean it up, Eren.” When I look to Master finally, broken of the spell keeping my eyes on the spot, his eyes are lackluster and his knuckles are white over the riding crop in his hand.

 

Nervously, I roll up my sleeves and get to work. This is unlike anything Master has asked of me before. It has always been simple. He would work my body in any way he felt until finally finding release through me. This was hauntingly different. This was the last thing my hopeful imagination had suggested to me after our last night together. Now, Master was not seeking any pleasure from me. He did not ask me here for the usual submission. I am here because I am someone whom he can order and will listen; he can hurt and will not scream out in the night. All of the praise I had spent the last weeks singing was now lost in my throat as I see the dark look in his eye.

 

My master is strange, and tormented, and good, and twisted, and unstoppable.

 

I scrub at the stain endlessly. Each time I dip the cloth into the bucket, the water grows darker from grime, yet the stain remains in the grain of the floor. The riding crop hits my flesh through my clothing, and it stings but I don’t feel it over the tightness in my chest. I want so badly for Master to find whatever it is he is looking for when he looks at me, but all he can see is this stain under my working hands and his own shaking fingers as he whips me for not succeeding.

 

“Why won’t you just _clean it up,_ Eren!? Why do you make me suffer like this!?” His voice is uncharacteristically shaken and panicky, and his words hurt because we both know there is nothing I can do; that no matter what I do tonight, Master will not be happy and I will only end up in pain.

 

The floor is soaking with the water of the bucket. My knees chafe against the wet fabric of my pants and my hands are wrinkling up with the moisture in the dirty cloth. It feels like an eternity passes, and my arms ache enough to rival the welts on my back. Each crack against my spine only reminds me that I am failing. I feel tears come to my eyes, and wonder if this is just another one of his means to make me cry.

 

Master isn’t that good of an actor, I think.

 

Eventually, his orders stop, along with the swinging of his arm and the sting of the leather. I hear it drop to the floor behind me, but do not halt in my attempt at cleaning the damned stain. Master’s pacing footsteps start up again, tapping over the wood floor with his regal boots. I glance at him only to see his hands fisted in his hair again and his eyes screwed shut tightly, fighting away whatever thoughts are plaguing him. When I drop the cloth into the bucket again, I am stopped from retrieving it by his hand on my wrist. Master yanks me to my feet and over to the familiar bed, where I am pushed down and promptly flattened. The pain of the wounds on my back as they rub the fabric of my shirt and press against the mattress causes my eyes to screw shut, and in that moment I feel Master’s next move.

 

An item I am quite familiar with is slipped around my head. As I open my eyes, they meet with only the darkness of the soft, silky blindfold. The room is so quiet that I can hear Master’s unsteady breathing from beside the bed.

 

“Why, Eren…?” The question is pleading, hurt, raw. All I want is to answer him; to jump up in response to his calling of my name, like a personal invitation to move closer and to help this twisted man.

 

Like the good servant, I lay still and silent, awaiting my Master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There isn't a ton going on in this chapter. Just a bit of backstory for you all as we lead in to the heavy bits to come. Get the band-aids ready, folks. The next chapter is seriously lacking sunshine.
> 
> (I AM sorry, but it probably doesn't sound like it.)
> 
>  
> 
> <3


	13. The Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master's house was haunted by too many ghosts for us to simply move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!
> 
> Trigger warnings : graphic depictions of violence, emotional and sexual abuse, non-consensual sexual acts, etc. etc.
> 
> These warnings apply to the entire chapter. There isn't really a SFW moment here. Turn back now while you still can.
> 
> I'm only kinda sorry.

**Chapter Thirteen**

**The Haunted**

_“C’mere, boy.”_

_His slurred words grate against my eardrums painfully. The way he always says_ boy, _and never once says_ Levi _._

My mother gave me a name, and no matter how much you hated her for leaving me with you… you could use it.

_My legs shake more and more the closer they move me to him. The fear is sickening and weakens me to the point that I can hardly obey. My entire body fights to resist. Yet, my mind knows perfectly well what will happen if I do. Approaching this man means pain and agony and sickening loathing. Disobeying means Hell and death. His hand reaches out to stroke my cheek, already wet with tears under the scraping calluses of his fingers. I whimper involuntarily and he laughs, puffing cloying breath into my eyes._

_“You’re weak, kid.” The words seem to fade into another dimension as he pushes me back onto the bed._ He’s right, _I think._ I deserve this, _I concede._

_I return from that far away place hours later, feeling filthy and aching everywhere. The sounds of a crying woman sharpen my focus back unwillingly. Kenny stands over her with his thick leather belt wrapped around his fist, hitting her mercilessly and cursing about her ‘incompetence’. I’m sure she did nothing wrong. He is just this kind of monster. The kind of man who was hated his whole life and decided to give us all a good reason for it. He struck you before you could strike him. The sweat from his pores was like the venom of a snake. Each droplet that touched my skin burned. I’d spend hours scrubbing away at the poison, but it never came free of my skin; forever tainting and molding me to be just like him._

_When the woman stops crying, and screaming, and eventually… breathing, he looks to me again; still curled into a pitiful ball on his dirty floor where he’d left me. I always knew what it meant. Until he could buy up another clueless servant, I’d be the new maid. I stand on my shaky, venom-drenched legs and recover the serving tray from under her limp form. The hand holding its rim slips and thuds against the floor in a definite way; like the periods at the ends of all of my favorite stories. The end._

 

Eren’s breathing is sharp and focused in my ears. I watch his chest heave up and down from his place atop my mattress; legs spread and arms outstretched by ropes. Under the blindfold, his eyelashes flutter and shift the cloth as he searches for me. “Eren,” I say, knowing full well that his ear plugs are working perfectly and he cannot hear me. “I hate this.” The admittance comes out harsh but shaky, and it hurts to say it aloud even if he isn’t listening.

 

Somewhere in the depths of me, I know. I know that this is different and that Eren can feel it, but I cannot stop it. Each time we meet I am torn among the man I have become and the man I wanted to be. His clear, perfect eyes seem to look inside of me, and I am so terrified of what he will find there that I push him away with these… these _sessions._ It never works. Even through the blindfold… can he see me?

 

I enjoy everything about him to the point that I feel sick and I hate myself for inflicting on him these nightmares that I have suffered. I was meant to be his salvation from Reeves but I am instead just another man keeping him captured in my basement. Every time that our skin clashes it is my filthy venom tainting his purity until I can’t look at myself anymore and all I can see is _him_. Kenny. My ghost. My predecessor and the man who made me into a monster.

 

After the things that he did to me, I could not remain strong. I could not remain _me._

 

But here is Eren. Eren, who has been dealt a similar fate, by a similar monster, and yet remains so completely himself that it is baffling. He is everything I love because he is everything I want to be and he is everything I hate because I cannot taint him and make him become me. He is strong where I was weak.

 

I leave Eren untouched, sweating from his nerves in the cold night. Only able to hear the sounds of his own breathing and the rapid thump of the blood in his veins. Only able to see the blackness that surrounds me at every waking moment of my life. All he can feel is what I allow him to feel, and right now I want him to feel loneliness and pain because they’re the only things I believe I am capable of giving someone else.

 

_Kenny beat me until I could hardly breathe the day he found out I had been teaching Hanji to read instead of fucking her. He couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t want to ‘be a man’. He thought he was doing me a favor. Maybe he thought it would bring us closer; like I would get laid and suddenly that would be the only thing on my mind and I could become as bad as him._

_I remember tasting blood for days and having to read my books out of only one blurry eye. I watched him kill so many people, but no matter how I begged, he would not kill me._

_“Please, Uncle, just kill me.” I would whine obnoxiously from a puddle of my own blood and urine. It seemed to only amuse him. He wouldn’t say anything. He would just beat me until I couldn’t even beg anymore, and then see to it that I survived for more. Like this, the days would pass with only Hanji on my side._

_I liked her innocence and naiveté. Even with the looming promise of my Uncle’s wrath over her head, she would smile when we read together and her skin would glow when she got to look out of my small bedroom window. If I had been raised any differently I could have fallen in love. But we were not people who could love- not then, and eventually ‘she’ became a ‘he’, and eventually Uncle called us both to his chamber._

_Hanji’s face was so pale- nearly green, even, when Uncle looked over us. His too-large hand clamped tight around Hanji’s too-thin wrist, and he was lifted to the bed with such ease that it ached. I was sure that this was the moment that Hanji’s beautiful purity would die. He would have to become a ‘she’ again at the moment of deflowering; never able to deny or hide that born identity again. My palms were sweating and I felt sick, but each muscle in my body still ached from my last beating, planting me in place as the tearing sound of fabric takes over the room. The dusty dress is dropped into a ruined heap by the bed, and Hanji’s underclothes land atop it seconds later._

_Kenny just took a long moment, looking over Han’s hands as they try and fail to cover small breasts and taking in the tears already rolling from his large eyes. With a grunt he begins again to move and we tense instantly, preparing for the worst. Uncle turns to me and locks his harsh eyes onto mine._

_“Fuck your slave, boy.” His voice is calm and calculating, perfectly masking the razor-sharp rage beneath. But we know him too well to be fooled._ If I don’t obey, we will both die. _For a moment, I consider it. I think it couldn’t be that bad. We would both suffer through something we hate and then move on._ Perhaps Uncle will be satisfied and leave us alone afterwards.

 

_It takes one look at Han’s face to see that I am an idiot. He would rather die than become a woman, and even more so if I was the one to do it. I would rather die than hurt my best and only friend that way._

_“No.” I say to him, for the first time in my life. It is terrifying and suffocating. There is a familiar sensation of warmth running down my leg. “I won’t.”_

_His eyes are instantly inflamed, eyebrows instantly pointing to his nose in an angry sneer that is too familiar. “What did you say to me!?” A fist removes a tooth from my gums, a knee moves one of my ribs out of its way. I hear Hanji sobbing, and Uncle cursing, and bones crunching, but I see nothing. “You will do as I have told you!” The pain is eventually replaced with a numbness and the rhythmic moving of my body under his fists slows. When my eyes crack open, they see only his cold eyes locked into a new, impassive gaze. “Fine, kid. Guess I’ll just have to take this one for myself.” His fingers are on the buttons of his shirt, then his belt, then his zipper, and then he’s naked; showing me the familiar and sickening sight of his erection. There are tears in my eyes as I realize what Hanji is about to experience- all of the nightmares that I have seen in my short lifetime._

_A strong thrumming in my chest brings back my resolve. A heartbeat. For a moment I’d forgotten I had one; a heart. I see his greasy back as he walks back towards the bed where Hanji waits, too afraid to move even an inch. The bed creaks under him when his knees press into it. I hear Hanji choke out one small, feeble protest. “No…”_

Eren’s skin is patterned with small bumps from the cold, but glistens with the sweat of effort as I play with him. I wonder how much it will take for him to be as filthy and rotten as me.

 

My fingers brush the skin of his neck as I strap one of my favorite items around it; a leather collar lined with velvet and a delicate detail of white stitching. “Master? I-!” His sentence is choked away when I tighten it harshly, securing the metal peg into the tightest hole it can reach without suffocating him. Whatever Eren meant to say, it is lost. He does not try to speak again.

 

The collar around his neck has a small metal hoop that bobs in rhythm as he breathes, and the ring around his cock looks painful. I had to play with him a bit to get the ring to work. He took almost all of the wooden beads inside of himself before his member began to respond and grow to the point that it would stay. Looking down on him, adorned in so many of my toys, senseless and helpless, gives me a very different feeling than usual. Previously, this sight would excite me to a maddening extent. Now, it only feels like it is not enough.

 

I recall the first time I glimpsed Eren’s sweet flesh, the first morning he woke me after his arrival. Hanji had put him in that damn _dress_ , even knowing the memories it would bring forth and the damage it could do. I had managed to move past it; pushing the past into the past and concentrating on the new and strange circumstances. But then, he showed me his skin again. The simplest mistake- forgetting to button a few simple buttons. It was strange how that smaller instance could send me over the edge, remembering my late uncle’s taunts; calling me a whore and a slut for showing him my skin even as he tore my clothing away. I hurt Eren then, for being too much of my past come back to haunt me. He didn’t even seem to feel it. Again, he was strong where I had been weak.

 

My own cock remains limp within my trousers, unresponsive. The only part of me finding joy in this moment is the monster. It wants to sully Eren and devour him, and I have no idea how to tame it. The understanding that I only want to hurt someone weaker than I is painful, and sudden. I knew that I was a monster, like Kenny. I didn’t know it would hurt me just as much as it hurt others. The naïve boy from that time, who gave in to the monster, should have known that such things don’t make you stronger. Becoming the beast won’t make the wounds he gave you disappear.

 

I pull the beads from Eren’s ass unceremoniously. There is a lewd _pop, pop, pop_ as they slide out. The ring comes off soon after, followed then by the ropes. I watch his muscles relax into the bed, unstrained, but he does not move. He waits, as he always does, but I am unsure what I am doing; so confused by my turmoil when I press my weight onto the mattress beside him.

 

 _Hanji’s fists hit Uncle’s chest fruitlessly, and there are weak cries. I hear my own broken voice croak out ‘no’, and ‘stop!’, to no avail. The old wooden floorboards leave filth under my fingernails as they scrape across it, brining me closer to the door as my bones grind together under my skin in agony._ So close _, I think silently, careful not to draw Uncle’s attention too soon._

_The cold metal of the coat rack in my fingers is pleasant. Its four little legs are perfect for helping me to my unsteady feet._

_“Stop it.” I hear Hanji’s voice, growing weaker, but it doesn’t seem like she is resisting any longer. My feet scrape closer, and the sound of the coat rack’s legs tapping on the wood echoes in my mind. Uncle doesn’t seem to notice a thing._

My body is hovering above Eren’s, somewhere in between this time and space. His skin calls to me and I hate it, because I swore that I would never touch a man the way my uncle had touched me. I swore that I would obey the laws that my uncle so often ignored, but took him in anyway. Everything about Eren shouldn’t be allowed in this house. We don’t deserve kindness or understanding, not for the things we have done.

 

I peer at my hands on either side of his head, my mouth inches from his. I watch the blindfold jerk with the subtle motion of his searching eyes; confused and waiting anxiously for what I will do next. He knows I am here, above him, yet I do not dare touch. Just feeling his warmth is too much. I don’t deserve his empathy, or those clear eyes that see me and accept me.

 

_I hear Uncle curse, his grating voice cutting the atmosphere with ‘it’s not gunna go in unless you get wet, you stupid bitch’. Hanji cries, and I smile, because there is a calm washing over me that is welcome and yet strange. I laugh, because surely he deserves such utterly idiotic last words, and swing the hooks of the coat rack into his temple. I hear the finality in the thud of the metal against bone. Through the vibrating pole, I feel his flesh give in, caught between the inside barrier and the outside force._

_I see Hanji’s hands come away from his mouth, frozen in a gasp of surprise. He looks completely stunned as our tormenter’s body hits the floor, pouring out bright red blood from a fleshy indent in the skull. When the coat rack hits the floor beside Kenny, Hanji’s large eyes meet mine. Finally, he smiles a true smile. It is warm sunlight and relief, and just as fucked up as my own twisted grin in the presence of a corpse._

_“You’re a free man now, Han.” I feel tears stinging my eyes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the short chapter. This is my shortest chapter for this story so far, but I really had nothing more to add here without simply droning on. I hope you all enjoyed the heartbreak.
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. I got bored and made some sub-par art for the previous chapter (chapter 10, I believe). Go back and take a look at it if you like (it's within the story near the corresponding texts).


	14. The Giving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy decides. The Master wilts.

**Chapter Fourteen**

**The Giving**

All that I see is blackness, accompanied by the swimming mirages of colors splayed over the backs of my eyelids. Those little floating shapes only visible when one can’t see a thing.

 

My blood sounds loud in my veins, and I am all too aware how quickly my breathing becomes any time I sense movement from Master. I am completely at the mercy of my anxiousness, wondering what each change in air flow or small vibration may bring. In the beginning, I am nervous in a way that makes my stomach churn; because I have known the unknown, and because the Master with me now is different from the Master that has been with me up until now.

 

In the blank space of my vision, my mind clings to the last images it held. The large stain over the floorboards looms before me; unyielding beneath the rough cloth. Why was that stain hidden beneath the rug, and why did Master suddenly call me, demanding it be cleaned? It is clearly very old, and very permanent.

 

My deep thoughts are interrupted by the abrupt feel of a wooden bead, wet and pressing at my entrance. I relax my muscles and allow the smallest one inside, bracing myself after each larger one is inserted and letting out a long sigh when the last one fits into place; just large enough to almost be too much. I don’t feel Master’s touch, nor any heat or breath. Only I exist in this space, and it is as if a ghost has come to torment me in the night. I feel my body responding even while my mind is adrift in other things. My Master has the ability to excite me even in this tense atmosphere, and I am both ashamed and overcome with adoration for this broken man. I shouldn’t be getting erect when something is so clearly wrong, and yet the anticipation of any small brush of the skin is amplified through me in this solitude he has created for me.

 

What have I created for him? Master has given me a home, a bed, a new life. I have friends and mentors and all of the books I could ever want, and I can even dare to dream of some day venturing outside without the fear of an enemy looming in the distance.

 

I want to give him more than just my body; my submission. I want to help him when I know that he is hurting, because it is obvious in the way he fights with himself any time we are together. Yet here I am, merely laying and waiting and unable to offer him anything more than _me_. This is it. I am just a broken boy without a family; a slave with nothing to my name to give that he can’t already gain for himself. I want so badly to tell him something, anything that could ease his tension. Even if it only means he fucks me and we part ways, at least I will know that he is well enough to fuck. His distance is so despairing to me in this moment. I call out, “Master, I-!” The words are choked from me, stolen by the collar around my neck. I feel the velvet on my skin, tight enough that I can’t ignore it but never tight enough to cause damage. Master is always careful, even when he is being rough. The silly thought almost brings a tear to my eye beneath the blindfold. Whatever will I had to call out is lost beneath the collar, somehow its presence brings on the feeling that I, although not gagged, may not speak; like an animal.

 

My blood is loud in my ears and the plugs are making my head ache. I sense no movement from Master for a long time.

 

_“You must call me Master Levi, boy, or just Master is acceptable.” The first moment I felt that I could really make a home here._

_"What has he done to you?" The way his eyes still never left me, even when faced with such an ugly body._

_“Eren is not for sale.”It wasn’t just acceptance, it was possessive and final; I was his and deep inside, I knew he was mine._

 

_"You pleased me with your performance today, Eren." The praise that captured me completely._

_“You've been a bother, a chore, and a nuisance.” The reasons for which I was punished._

_“That’s perfect, Eren. Just like that.” The reasons for which I enjoyed it._

_"Why don't you cry, Eren?” That piece of him so utterly raw that neither of us could leave it alone._

 

_“I am glad that you are enjoying it. Happy birthday, for what it is worth.”It is worth my entire existence that you cared, for even one moment._

_“Eren. Are you alright? They didn’t find you, did they?”No Master, it was I who found you._

_“Perhaps you cannot give me what I want, afterall. It is a shame. I had high hopes for you. Leave, Eren.”You’re a terrible actor, Master, yet the words still sting so deeply._

_“Very good, Eren.”Yes, tell me again and again and again! Call my name more and more and more._

_“Clean it up, Eren.”I…_

Yes. That’s why I am here. All of the moments of my shitty life have led me to this time, and this place, with this man. More than just an obedient toy, laying still and silent and used, I am Master Levi’s servant, who will do anything and everything for the sake of his wellbeing. I must be strong, if I ever want to _clean it up._

 

The heavens I don’t believe in are still granting me small miracles.

 

I hold in a squeal as the beads in my ass are suddenly ripped out; too quick to get a real response. I feel his cold fingertips remove the ring from around my cock; still hard from the trapped blood but quickly becoming soft. Soon, the ropes go slack and I feel my strained body relax into the plush linens beneath me. The bed shifts around me; my hips dip down first and then my shoulders. In the darkness of my blindfold my mind envisions Master there above me, looking deep into my eyes with want and need. The phantom dips his lips close to mine, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath. My own breath stays caught in my chest. I am so utterly shocked and anxious from the sudden change to my previously secluded world that I almost feel dizzy. The phantom Master Levi smirks playfully, teasing my own tingling lips with his perfectly shaped pair.

 

Then, it shatters.

 

The bed shakes noticeably around me and something warm and wet lands on my cold cheek. One, two, three small drops splash down and fall over my skin, echoing the hurt I immediately feel in my chest. Master is… crying.

 

Master is… _shit!_

My hands are fumbling at the blindfold, still numb from the ghosts of ropes, and despite the long moments it takes me to remove it, Master is still there just inches above me when I peek out. My head falls back again as I take in the sight of Master’s stern face, set in his usual scowl as if he can scare the tears away. His silver eyes are looking into mine, almost searching; trying to find words that neither of us know how to say. Without thinking, without caring, I grip his shoulders and pull him into me.

 

I wrap my arms around his neck, threading fingers into hair and forcing his nose into the crook of my neck where we can’t see each other as we fight ourselves. He makes no moves of his own, choosing instead to remain limp and give in without returning any such comforts. I realize in his awkwardness that Master is likely a stranger to such things, and stroke his hair lightly to test my allowances. His head begins moving back and forth, and I feel his breath puff out into my hair and his lips brush my skin. My heart stops beating a moment, two moments, until it dawns on me that he is speaking, not nuzzling, and _I’m still wearing those damn earplugs!_ I rip them out instantly, worried how much I may have missed, but Master’s voice is so low and his words are so jumbled that I doubt I’ve missed anything helpful in figuring out his strange behavior. I gently try to put enough space between us so that I can hear him, and he lets me for a moment.

 

“It won’t go away, Eren. The stain or the _filth_! I am covered in it.” The sound of his voice cracking in sad anger makes my heart twist, and my arms instinctively pull him back into me, where he resumes his previous position without any fight. His voice continues, muffled by my skin and the blankets beneath us. “People who break the law are _scum_ , no better than _him_.” His hands release the cloth of the bedspread and close in on my back and shoulders. I am stunned at this closeness but remind myself to _listen,_ because if I don’t, I’ll never be able to give Master _more_ like I wanted.

 

“He killed all of those people, Eren… he hurt them, and me, and her…. He would have…” I shush him quietly, stroking the short hairs of his undercut and piecing together the puzzle. It was obvious from the size and color of the stain that it was blood. The stories of Master Ackerman were always terrible tales. Reeves used to tell them to us slaves and say, ‘See? Aren’t you glad I’m not like him?’, or threaten to send us to his manor if we ever crossed the final line. As if Reeves himself wasn’t just as bad.

 

And that was it, wasn’t it? The reason why Master has taken me in despite his disdain for law-breakers, and likely the reason why he seems to hate me and enjoy me all in the same instance.

 

Master knew that I understood his pain, but has no idea how to do something as simple as connect. Before Reeves, I had a family. They taught me to laugh and to love, and how to tell someone how you feel and how to treat people. Master Levi only had Master Ackerman to teach him how to live, which was no way at all. If I had been given the chance to kill Reeves, would I have done it? In this moment, I want to say, _‘Yes! Absolutely!’_

 

Too afraid to move, and too afraid to say the wrong thing, I just whisper, “I know.” My own chest is bursting from Master’s pain, and my own pain in remembering Reeves’ own malicious acts. My eyes sting with hot tears, and it doesn’t take long before they are spilling down my cheeks in tickling trails, down into my ears and Master’s smooth hair. When he seems content with my response, I dare to move; rolling us to the side without ever loosening my grip on him. His nose remains tucked into my neck, my arm under his head. His hands no longer grip at my back, but rest there calmly as he attempts to calm his breathing. I imagine he isn’t very used to crying.

 

“Listen to my breathing, Master.” I whisper it so quietly, still nervous, that I worry he hasn’t heard me. Two minutes of deep, rhythmic breathing seems to work as he eventually syncs to me, and his trembling stops. Every now and then, I still hear whispers from him. Tidbits of confessions, or memories of his abuse, until eventually there is just calm breath and quiet. I dry my own eyes and spend minutes basking in the warmth of Master’s body, so close to mine and so completely relaxed in sleep. How many times have I come to wake Master in the morning only for him to already be awake? Just once, I want to have this moment with him. I watch his eyelashes flutter, hip lips part slightly, his hair as it waves from my breath on his forehead. Master’s confession is shocking, but this moment is somehow much more so.

 

So, he murdered his predecessor, huh? So what? The man was evil. This man here, in my arms, isn’t evil. Just broken. That is my conclusion, and all it takes for me to solidify my desires.

 

I want Master to know me as more than a Servant, or a toy, or a pet. I want to do more for him than anyone else has ever done. Even if he never returns my feelings, even if I am a servant for life, to me… I will always be more. I will always give my all for him.

 

I slip away from him gently, replacing my arm with a real pillow and maneuvering some of the blanket over him after getting off his robe. He sleeps in only a pair of black slacks, so I stoke a small fire in the wood stove and clean up the trunk. I untie the ropes from the bed posts, clean off the beads and the ring, and tuck it all away in the closet. I can’t help but stop in the doorway, taking a moment to watch the trunk as it sits, frozen in time in this closet. My fingers dance over the collar around my neck, but I close the closet door before I can change my mind about it.

 

I may not want to be Master’s pet, but I do want to be his _something_. When I wear this, I feel that I can be _more_ , not _less_ , because Master is twisted and so am I; and this is how we will find our way together. I know it.

 

The stain on the floor stares at me. Or maybe it’s the other way around. It seems different now than hours earlier when I’d first seen it. Now, it has a name. _Kenny Ackerman._ He was easily a stain during life, so I tell myself this is an improvement and roll the rug back over him, willing him to stay buried under our boots where he belongs.

 

Downstairs, I am suddenly aware that it isn’t actually that late in the evening. Although the slaves would be asleep by now along with most of the wait staff, Hanji and a few others remain awake in the staff dining room tucked behind the kitchen. I consider talking to Hanji about the evening’s strange events, but don’t want to betray any of Maser’s trust. Somehow I am certain that even Hanji hasn’t seen him like this. I idle in the hall, listening to the rumble of laughter through the door and contemplating. In the end, I decide to just head to my room. I hike the collar of my shirt up to hide the new leather collar beneath, hoping it’s not as obvious as I feel it is. As I walk by, Hanji glances up from his hand of cards, a pile of chips and miscellaneous items in front of him as large as his head, and grins devilishly.

 

“Eren! Come join us! These chumps are running out of bets!” The cook on his side slaps his arm playfully, and one of the maids across the table pouts. I don’t miss how the woman on his other side hangs off of one arm, trying desperately to get attention he isn’t giving.

 

“Don’t do it, Eren! He’s a monster!”

 

I smile through my tired haze and wave a hand in their direction. “Thanks guys, but maybe next time. What would I bet, anyway? You’re not getting any of my books.” I keep my body half-turned to the basement stairs, still conscience of my collar but not wanting to be rude.

 

“Those are all _my_ books, anyway!” His hair is uncharacteristically disheveled and the pout on his face is accented by pink cheeks.

 

“Not all of them! And have you been _drinking!?_ ” I laugh as Hanji attempts to straighten up, and everyone easily joins in. I sneak downstairs with the sound of their teasing behind me. I’ve never played poker, but my parents did teach me a few card games when I was young. I really would like to join them sometime, but tonight is just not the night.

 

Tonight, I will crash into bed, Master’s birthday gift tucked under my pillow like always, and miss sleep.

 

A few hours later, I am lying awake as expected. I shower and dress, opting for a slick dark-grey high-necked sweater to help hide the collar. I shine my black shoes and iron out my black slacks, and admire the look in the mirror. The dark colors bring out my green eyes, and make my brown hair seem brighter as well. For the first time, I am not just dressing nicely for Master’s approval; I am dressing nicely for Master’s _attention._

 

I am the first one in the kitchen, and a glance at the clock tells me that the others won’t be up for at least a half-hour. I fire up the large stoves as a token of apology for not staying up with them, and make Master’s morning tea. I set the tray perfectly and add a small bowl of fruits and a pastry baked fresh just the night before in preparation for the morning meal. As a final touch, I leave a note for Hanji that I’ve taken care of Master’s breakfast.

 

I have no idea if Master will be awake. He is usually awake quite early, often waiting for his tray when we arrive as the cooks awaken. Thinking about how he will remember last night leaves me completely anxious. My fingers shake in their grip on the tray and my legs feel numb as I walk up the spiral.

 

Will he be angry? Will he not want to see me; send me away? I haven’t been waking him in the mornings since I started assisting with the slaves, so he would be expecting Hanji. My toe knocks the pristine wooden door, and I receive no answer from within. I take a deep breath and steel myself. _Just act normal. Just like always. Nothing has changed._

 

I expect the door to creak as it opens, but the new hinges are silent and unhelpful. _I guess I’ll really be waking him myself._

I set the tray on the table, glancing at Master’s sleeping form as he hugs a ball of blankets to his chest. When the curtains to the window slide open, his eyes crack grumpily and close immediately in disdain.

 

“Good morning, Master Levi. I’ve brought your breakfast.” I remove his usual robe from its hook on the wall and bring it over as he sits up and slide it over each arm. On the outside, I am the usual Eren. On the inside, my heart is racing and my lungs are burning with my effort not to even _breathe_ too quickly for fear of somehow scaring him from me.

 

“Thank you, Eren. I wasn’t expecting you yet.” His voice is the normal mask of boredom mixed with sleep, and I detect no hint that he remembers or cares about last night. Although this is what I wanted, it hurts.

 

He glances around the room as he takes a few sips of tea, noting that everything is in its place. With a sigh, he sets the cup down and settles at looking to his feet.

 

“Can I get you anything else, Master?” I will my pulse to slow down as he looks up at me. I swear that his eyes hover over my neck for just a moment; seeing right through my sweater to the collar beneath it.

 

He clears his throat and shuffles the robe back off of his shoulders, and hands it to me. I give him a questioning look but place it back on the hook regardless. “Actually, Eren, I’m still very tired. I think I’ll sleep some more.”

 

I am visibly taken back and he scoffs. In the months that I have been here, Master has never once requested more sleep, or even been capable of it. Still, I understand the weight of emotional stress and make my way towards the door.

 

He pauses in his move to settle under the covers once more, looking to me expectantly. “Eren.”

 

“Yes, Master? Was there something else?”

 

His face doesn’t change from passive boredom even as he scoots towards the center and motions to the vacated spot. “Get over here. Take off those shoes.”

 

I fight to keep my eyes in their sockets, tripping over myself as I practically fall out of my shoes and make my way to the bed, closing the curtains again on my way. His eyes are still locked on mine, paused at the edge of the world we know and the world we’ve created, and I steady myself to take the leap. As I slip under the covers, never looking away, he moves into my arms and tucks his nose back into the crook of my neck where the collar surely presses into his cheek; silently telling me that this is fine, this is good. This is what he wants. My arms wrap tightly around him once again, and I feel him slip back into sleep.

 

I don’t sleep yet; opting instead to study the fairness of his skin and noticing for the first time the small, faint scars adorning his back. As he breathes, I watch his muscles shift and see his ribs peek from beneath. One of them looks a little out of place.

 

Each part of him that I see and know is beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for taking so long on this update. It took me some time to really find Eren’s voice here, and I hope it came out well. Leave it to me to post an update so close to a Holiday (for those in the USA), but I hope people can still find the time to enjoy! Today, I am thankful for SNK and my wonderful readers. Thank you all!


	15. The Reborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Master is born. A Master is changing.

**Chapter Fifteen**

**The Reborn**

The evening that my uncle died was encased in darkness.

 

There was a brief moment of relief when Hanji and I looked at one another, where we believed this meant we were free. We could be happy. Then the blood from uncle’s head was seeping into my shoes and staining Han’s petite bare feet. It was apparent that we had work to do.

 

Dragging his limp form out of the room was a chore for us then; being small and weak as we were. I thought I could call on Erwin to help, but knew in the back of my mind that such a plan was too risky. Instead, we heaved him over the wooden railing of the spiral after cleaning up the bedchamber. Made sure he landed on his head. Han’s slender fingers wrung together, stained red in the creases and nailbeds, as the maids began to scream below. When we looked down upon them from our perch with no pity in our eyes, they knew. The whole of the house gathered ‘round the spiral that night, staring first down at their dead tormenter and then up to the dead eyes of their saviors; children, so beaten and bloody that no one would blame them.

 

“Uncle had too much to drink tonight, like any night. Took a spill.” My small voice echoed down the tunnel-like space, emotionless and yet dripping with intent. Slowly, their heads nodded one by one in understanding. From the back of the crowd, Erwin’s cold, calculating gaze was on us; eyebrows pinched tight in worry and clarity. I knew when meeting his gaze that I was right not to call upon him. Something changed in all of us that evening. It was time to test the waters and let everyone understand that I was their Master now.

 

“Erwin.” I watched him walk through the crowd, parting them like weak river water.

 

“Yes, Master Levi?” A murmur flits through the group of onlookers, only now processing that it’s true; their old Master is dead, and this child is taking his place. Not Master Ackerman, the feared monster of town; Master Levi, his unreadable nephew they have hardly spared a glance to.

 

“I believe Uncle had ordered a new rug for his chamber, yes? Bring it immediately.”

 

It took much longer than immediately for Erwin to dig up a suitable rug, and we had only just gotten it in place when the authorities and coroner had arrived. It was old enough that it could have always been in the room, but elegant enough that it matched the posh theme of the house; they didn’t give it a second glance as they looked over the room.

 

Hanji, Erwin and I watched them wrap up Uncle’s body and heave him out of the front door. As one of them went to close the door behind them, I caught it and gave them a final farewell. I would close the door on this night myself.

 

For the next few weeks, the mansion underwent a long and tedious reconstruction. The staff employed by my late uncle were given the opportunity to seek other jobs, and they all accepted shamelessly. Each was given a severance package: all of the belongings they’d gathered over time, and a decent sum of money to do with what they pleased. I didn’t need ask for their silence; they were more than happy to give it. The only employee still under my care from Uncle’s time when the remodeling had completed was Erwin, whom I planned to dismiss as soon as Hanji’s formal training was finished.

 

Erwin would look at Han strangely when he thought neither of us was watching. It took him a full week to stop calling him ‘her’ or ‘she’, and eventually he returned from town one day with a male butler’s suit.

 

“If you want to be a man so bad, Han, fine. But I’ll never break the habit if you keep wearing those dresses around.” I hummed in approval when Hanji looked my way, and immediately he set off to change. After that, I ordered Erwin into town to buy up an entire male wardrobe, to which he was quite embarrassed about purchasing when it was so clearly not for his large frame. The blush in his cheeks when he returned was hilarious, and Hanji’s wide smile was reassuring.

 

“I think it is time, Erwin. Han seems to be doing a perfect job of putting you out of yours.” I said to him finally, nearly three months after my uncle’s passing.

 

He paused with his hands over a duster, stopped perfectly between my two favorite novels on the shelf. I watch his eyes go unfocused as he processes everything, and eventually he sets the duster down to take the seat across from me at uncle’s- no, my- window. His voice is quiet and sincere, but strong.

 

“I am… deeply sorry, Master Levi. For allowing the things your uncle did to happen.” The apology startles me, but I can’t show it on my face. The eyes that lock with his are as cold and sharp as ever. “I know that I could have done something… anything…” He swallows a lump in his throat, “but he was a powerful man in this community. If he didn’t murder me himself, he would have made it impossible for me to work anywhere else. Please understand, I have a family to support; my father.”

 

I have no idea how true this is, as I’ve rarely seen Erwin leave the mansion. What I do know that I spent years seeing Erwin through eyes squinting in pain, stained red with my own blood as he merely looked on with those icy blue eyes.

 

“I accept no apologies, Erwin. But you will leave here with the same options as the rest. Go find work elsewhere, and never come back to this place.” His face falls, saddened in some way, but he bows and stands to leave. My gaze drifts out the window with disinterest as I wait to hear the chamber door close, but it doesn’t. When I look back, Erwin is still standing beside me, looking at me with an emotion I am unfamiliar with.

 

“Please… take care of Hanji, will you? He needs you.”

 

With that, Erwin left, leaving me alone with my demons. _I need him too, idiot._

 

Hanji was less than thrilled at Erwin’s ‘decision’ to leave. I broke the news the next morning. He didn’t get to say goodbye. “Master! Erwin was my mentor! Surely he didn’t leave me without so much as a thought.” He was walking so closely behind me that his shoes would occasionally catch on my own, nearly causing me to trip. After the third time I had to stop, spinning abruptly and pulling Hanji’s face in close to mine; pinning him with a glare. He’s growing fast; already getting taller than me.

 

“He. Is. Gone. We are all that’s left of my uncle’s house, Han. Me, and you. It’s better this way.” I release his shirt collar and he shies away, hurt but understanding. “But, we can’t run this house or this business alone. Let’s go find some help.” Hanji’s first assignment was a hard one: interview nearly one hundred potential employees and find the ones best suited for Master Levi’s house.

 

Soon, the entire newly-remodeled basement was full of new staff. I had the workers expand the space, extending the underground portion past even the house’s borders. Nearly thirty rooms were furnished, stocked with basic necessities, and cleaned by Han and his first new hires; who were all given the option to live there.

 

I was busy for months catching up on the ways of the business; relying on Uncle’s files for information and bribing many of his accountants and managers to stay and help me understand. It was apparent that Uncle had built his fortune when he was young, before he took to drinking, and it was failing. Eventually, I built myself up into a real owner, with mistakes learned from and payed for. Meeting after meeting kept me from thinking about the empty second floor of the house; the floor I had remodeled specifically for any slaves, so that they could live better than Han ever got to. It slipped my mind somehow what it meant. I, myself, would have to purchase the slaves that would live there. I was harshly reminded of it during one private meeting, when the man I was chatting with decided to ask just how many I owned. I could see in his eyes he was testing me. The more slaves a man owns, the more powerful and rich he is. The more he appears to fuck, the more he appears ‘manly’; a disgusting society built on testosterone and greed. He smiled crookedly when he saw my face fall. Clearly, I had none. I was practically a child. These men didn’t see me as a Master, or even a respectable business owner. No, this person had come to this meeting not to invest in my company but to get a good look at the little boy pretending to be a grown man.

 

The next week, two slaves arrived. I chose one I knew to be experienced as my first. Hanji looked a little pale when I instructed him to get her washed. I remember feeling sick to my stomach, and she didn’t seem any better. Regardless, I let her lead me through the basics. I wasn’t able to finish that night, or any night for a very long time. It wasn’t until I discovered an old leather collar deep in the closet and strung it around her neck that I felt release for the first time. She accepted it fine, but afterwards I could not look at her again. I knew when her eyes met mine that they would say all of the things I was avoiding. _Monster. Disgusting. You’re just a kid, but you want to control_ me _?_ _Sick._

I was fourteen. The next time a potential business partner came to the mansion, I made it a point of walking them through the second floor. Parading them by the long window. Letting them see my beautiful women, now four of them, so close but so far away behind the glass. I’d leave them in the hall and enter the room; let them see how the girls would scurry to line up and present themselves to me. Some would lift their dresses and reveal their naked flesh to me, some would turn and bend their supple hips, inviting me to run a hand up the curve of their ass. They were trained so well, and I felt sick inside.

 

The men were always so impressed that I’d end the night a richer man. I’d use the money to buy more slaves, so that I could feel the power and control that it gave me. With such hideous intents, I turned my uncle’s failing business into a great success. I went to sleep every night not quite certain I was shaping up any better than him.

 

-

 

I wake to find myself wrapped in Eren’s arms, warm and sweaty. I am enveloped in the smell and feel of him. My torso is bare and sticks to his arms as I try to pull away. There is panic within me. _Why is he here? Why are we hugging?! I am disgusting. Don’t touch me, Eren. Your beautiful soul will be tainted. Those pure, clear eyes will cloud when you see me. I’ll have to send you away, just like-_

“Shhh.” His hands grip into my hair and he pulls me closer, shushing me while still mostly asleep and dreamy. His grip is surprisingly strong, and I simply don’t have the energy to fight it. Didn’t even know I was whining like an injured animal until he shushed me. Didn’t realize that my cheeks were already wet with tears. I remember inviting him into the bed with me, and am dumbfounded at my own behavior.

 

My shoulders relax first, followed immediately by my hands on his chest and my head as it falls back to his arm like a pillow. I am melting into the warmth of this boy, who is holding me and comforting me despite all of the terrible things I have done. Not only to him, but to everyone. I’m a murderer. A molester. A neglector. I’ve done so much wrong in my life that I can’t recall anything right. But this moment _feels_ right, so I sink into it with my tired bones and just let it happen. I don’t think I’ve ever been held this way. Not even as a baby. Eren is nearly snoring in his deep sleep. The sound is calming me as my own breathing automatically syncs to it like the night before. _Was it only last night? How long have I been asleep?_

 

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the doorknob clicking as it turns. My heart leaps nervously, unsure of what to do and having no time to react. Do I jump out of bed? Then Eren would just be laying in my bed and I’d be standing there awkwardly! Do I try to wake him and shove him out? The door is already opening! My eyes close tightly and I hide my face beneath Eren’s chin, feeling the proximity even more now as our skin brushes intimately while someone is about to see.

 

Light footsteps circle around the bed and I hear metal brushing wood as a tray is set down. There is a pause, and all I can hear is my heartbeat and Eren’s breathing in my ear and Hanji’s amused, quiet hum. I try not to tense as I feel the blanket shift. Hanji pulls the plush fabric up over us, covering me up to my neck. I hear him pat at the sides around Eren, tucking us in like we’re children. It takes all of my effort not to simply sit up and snarl at him to _leave_.

 

I hear metal moving around again and Hanji chuckles and departs, as if hearing my silent plea. Eren continues snoring, oblivious to our precarious situation, and my hands loosen their death-grip on his black sweater. _When did he get this? And when the hell did I grab onto it!?_ If it’s possible to glare at yourself without a mirror, I do, but my hands don’t leave his back and chest despite it.

 

Time drags on as we lay there. I try and fail to wiggle away from Eren as it grows too hot beneath the blankets, but each time his arms tense protectively. On the third try, I am getting agitated as I think about my tea growing cold and the awkward conversation I’ll be having with Han later.

 

“Eren. Eren!” I am met with only a sleepy hum of acknowledgment, and it’s apparent he isn’t really waking at all. “Eren, wake the fuck up!” I push into his chest roughly with both hands, my voice grating harshly right beside his ear. This time, he rolls slightly to his back and his eyes come open in a few slow blinks. “Do you think I have time to lay here all day? Christ, it’s got to be evening already!” I finally get a peek at the window and see the soft orange light enveloping it.

 

“Huh?” His eyes flick to the window as well even as he squints at the light and rubs them. I don’t miss that the arm I was using as a pillow is still sprawled close to me, reaching for me, as if he wants to continue at any moment.

 

“You sleep like a loud, snoring log in _your Master’s bed_ , all day, only to wake up and say ‘ _huh’!?_ ” I can feel myself avoiding all of the emotions within me at the sight of his beautiful green eyes in the evening light, foggy with sleep. Hair messy and untamed. Muscles pulled tight beneath the form-fitting sweater as he stretches them. As his arms come up over his head, a strip of flesh at his waist is revealed, and although I have seen him naked so many times this is _different_. I see his neck move strangely and suddenly remember the feel of it against my nose and cheek. _He’s still wearing… the collar?_ The revelation shoots right to my groin; tightening my pants and causing my breath to hitch.

 

_Get your fucking self together!_

 

I throw back what’s left of my blanket covering and slip out of the bed, having to walk all the way around to get to the tea tray and my chair. I throw myself into it, not looking back at Eren until I’m sure I can compose my tumultuous thoughts.

 

“My apologies, Master.” The words are still coated in sleep. He runs his hands through his hair to try and fix it, still sitting on the edge of the bed. Afraid that if he leaves it he will never get back in. _Will I let him? I don’t know._

 

“You don’t look very sorry, Eren.”

 

He glances at himself atop the bed, and laughs lightly; a sound that I don’t hear often and can’t help but commit to memory. “I guess you’re right.” He stands then, looking awkward and out-of-place anywhere but tangled in my sheets with his arms around me.

 

“Have some tea. Hanji was kind enough to bring two cups.” His eyes fall to the tray between us and his face goes pink with a harsh blush as he thinks about Hanji seeing us like that.

 

“He-… he saw?”

 

“He did, thanks to _someone’s_ ability to sleep through anything.” He looks hurt behind his teacup.

 

“I’m sure I would have woken up if _someone_ hadn’t kept me from sleeping for so long!”

 

My mouth falls open at his comeback. _Eren is talking back to me!?_ My cup clinks harshly onto the dish as I set it down, now empty. “You had plenty of time to rest after-….” _After cradling me to sleep and sneaking away,_ I stop myself from saying; hating even the memory of being so weak. He’s already shaking his head, eyebrows creasing and voice sounding softly uncertain.

 

“I couldn’t sleep at all, after that… I wanted to…” _Wanted to what?_ His cup clinks down beside mine. I hear him take a deep breath as he works up the nerve to continue. My eyes don’t leave the pair of teacups, unable to look at him. “I wanted to come back to you and stay with you. But I didn’t want to scare you away.”

 

It takes my mind hours to process what he said. At least, it feels that way. _Eren_ wanted _to stay with me? He wanted… to be with me?_ I bite down my surprise and the strange thumping of my heart, searching for something to say.

 

“Looks like you got your wish.” I say it coldly, indifferent. It doesn’t stop him from smiling and blushing. His bottom lip is pressed between his teeth as he works at it, avoiding my gaze now. It goes quiet. Neither of us knowing what to say or do. Do we go back to life as normal? I can’t ignore that something feels different with Eren. That _I_ feel different with Eren. _About_ Eren. Even if he could pretend nothing happened, would I be able to? All I can do is try, right?

 

“I’m… very sorry for my actions, Eren. With the… stain.” I feel my nails dig into my palms and force a deep breath. _Why am I so nervous?_ “And the… ropes. Beads. Ring. Blindfold. Earplugs.” _Collar,_ I almost say, but stop. _No. I’m not sorry for that one._ My eyes dance over the faint outline around his neck, where I know it to be. His cheeks are pink again and he doesn’t even seem aware when his fingers come up to dance over it; gaze lost somewhere behind me as he ponders it.

 

“You never have to apologize to me, Master Levi.” His eyes find mine now, and it feels like it’s already been an eternity since I looked into them. They are warm and bright, filled with a strange calm and hopefulness that I cannot deny. It eats into me. I want Eren to wear that collar eternally, just so I can keep him here with me. It is such a strange feeling that I almost feel sick, remembering how just earlier I thought I’d need to send him away like the rest.

 

_Eren is different_.

 

I swallow the dry lump in my throat, wishing for more tea, and steel my resolve. Something is definitely different with Eren and I, and no matter how uncertain I feel, beneath that is the unavoidable and suffocating urge to explore it. I want more from Eren than I’ve ever wanted from anyone else. I want to _give_ Eren more than I’ve ever given.

 

“Call me Levi, Eren. Just Levi.”

 

His face goes slack and pale; so utterly unbelieving before he sees the resolve in my eyes and accepts it. His smile in that moment is too bright for this dark house, and I long to take him outside these walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READER POLL :
> 
> Cock, or dick?  
> (or other)
> 
> Personally, I hate the word dick when inserted into something meant to arouse/excite. It just isn't a sexy word to me, and thus, you'll never see me use it in such a scenario. Still, I respect other's opinions and want to know what you all think, out of curiosity.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feedback me!


	16. The Virgin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The servant feels the changes brought upon them by the boy.
> 
> The servant rejoices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first time I posted a Hanji chapter, one reader pointed out to me that I should either tag the yuri, or warn you.  
> I simply didn't tag certain things because I didn't want any spoilers out there.  
> Now, I present to you...  
> Yuri.  
> If you don't want to read it, skip the last half of this chapter.

**Chapter Sixteen**

**The Virgin**

The house was immediately, undeniably different then. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and although there were shadows looming in every corner, there was a bright light overtaking the place. It was strange and unsettling in the beginning, when suddenly Master’s face seemed passive and serene rather than disgruntled and agitated. Eren would practically skip through the corridors, his cheeks eternally pink and his lips eternally smiling. It was ludicrous.

 

It wouldn’t last, surely. But we could all dream.

 

That was what I thought then, and even now, after all of these years.

 

 

-

 

In the days following the incident in which I found Master Levi and Eren in a compromising position, nothing was said. No small indication that anyone knew a thing. I certainly didn’t tell a soul; wanting not only to keep Master’s secrets as I always have, but also selfishly wanting to be the only one to know. I had a desire to be special in this house where everyone was a slave to the hierarchy; knowing I would never know anything more than this place and needing to make it good despite all of the bad, even if it is my own choice to stay here.

 

Master and Eren had spent all day in his room, seemingly asleep until I delivered the tea. After that, faint chatter could be heard by anyone standing near his door; which admittedly was only my shamefully curious self. Eventually, Eren emerged with a deep blush that never faded and returned to his evening as if nothing had changed. He retired to his own room that night and awoke at the usual time the next morning. He spent the entirety of that day teaching the girls some new book he’d snatched from a never-used guest room. My eyes couldn’t leave him or Master whenever I found myself in the room with either of them, but they never gave any notion of recognition to my knowing glances or even to one another. No one in the house was any wiser to the changes, but they could feel it.

 

Whispers in the halls would speculate why Master hasn’t raised his voice even _once_ that day. Why Eren won’t stop humming happily when the rest of us are elbow-deep in work and sweat. It was amusing and maddening all at once for me as I bit back every comment or question.

 

 _Since when are you so close? Is this what you always do when you sneak out at night? Has it only been cuddling? Don’t tell me that Master has begun having sex with men, after all!? Surely that was a one-time thing!_ My eyes are practically screaming at Eren, jumping out of my skull, as he prances by me with a feathered duster. _I can’t take this kind of emotional strain!_

Two days after my discovery and I had caved. I seek out Master in his study with a tray of snacks despite not being summoned and despite the barely-touched tray he already had from a few hours before. I am painfully obvious, but he doesn’t even seem to mind; serving only to further confound me. My mind is starting and stalling even as I sit before his desk, and I am unable to say a word of the novel-length monologue running through my head.

 

He ignores me as he works. His quill scratches away at parchment, and occasionally I see his fingers flick at the abacus nearby with finesse. Master has been Master for so long that I forget the small boy he once was. I forget our long days spent as one another’s only company as he taught me to read and write, gave me clothing and food, and we ignored one another’s bruising. This man before me is a business owner now, and watching him work is fascinating when you know what he has overcome. He fears nothing in this world but the ghosts and demons of our pasts. Quickly, I forget my entire purpose for being here. His eyes look bright and clear without dark circles beneath them. His skin seems smoother, his hair shines in the light from the window. This is a man who has found an oasis in the desert.

 

“You’re staring.” My eyes dart to his, surprise meeting amusement. The smirk on his lips tells me he knows exactly why I am here.

 

“Forgive me, Master. It’s just that I thought for a moment you’d been replaced with a nicer twin.” I smile at him mischievously as he stores his quill away, still smirking to himself.

 

“Does that make me the evil twin?” His thin fingers lace together over the wooden surface, mimicking the villains of our favorite novels.

 

“Well, you certainly aren’t Saint Maria, Rose, or Sina, are you?” Before I can react, a ball of crumpled paper collides with my spectacles, setting them askew on my face.

 

“What do you want, Han? I’m busy.”

 

I pull them from my face and retract the cleaning cloth from my breast pocket, giving them a good shine while stubbornly avoiding his gaze. When I’ve run out of dust specs to remove I place them squarely on my nose and take a deep breath.

 

“I have so many questions that I don’t even know where to begin, Master.” I watch intently as his amused smile falters, and his eyes flash seriously for a moment. “But I guess I’ll save most of them for another time. What I want to know about _now_ are the slaves.” His face twists in confusion.

 

“The slaves? What about them?”

 

“I don’t know what’s happened with you and Eren, Master. It isn’t my business and I won’t speak a word about it ever again if you wish; but it’s different now, isn’t it? You two are strange together and strange apart. Eren has plenty of his own issues, but I am positive he wouldn’t hesitate to take on your own.” He plays nervously with the beads of the abacus, avoiding my serious gaze and trying hard not to confirm or deny a thing. “It’s obvious that you care for him, Master. I know you don’t believe yourself capable of it, or maybe you simply run from it. But I hope for everyone’s sake you won’t run from _him_. Not anymore. No more than you have. That boy has been chasing you since he burst through those doors!” My voice is growing louder as I go, unable to stop, as I begin to realize these things even I say them aloud. I quickly quiet myself to a normal volume and continue before he has a chance to intervene. “My point is, Master, that you no longer need a harem. Those girls first served merely as a symbol of status, and then they became the focus of your demons. Now, you don’t need any of that. There isn’t anyone in this land that doesn’t know how powerful you are, or doubts it. With Eren here, you haven’t the slightest desire to take any of those girls again; I have seen it. So what will you do with them?” My voice is shaking now, thinking of them. Remembering the years I spent repressing emotions and memories. Guilt washes through me when I accept that I am my own monster for escaping the life of a slave and lying to everyone, while handing those girls over to Master’s rage and any scumbag with a wallet that came afterwards. I realize now that things _can_ change. If Master will simply put his power behind it, those girls could have something better. _Nifa_ could have something better.

 

“Han…” He begins, looking uncertain and uncharacteristically shaky. “I have no idea. I haven’t really gotten that far, yet.” His voice is high-pitched with emotion, unused to such honesty and vulnerability. He makes no effort to deny what I’ve said regarding Eren. This is a new Master. His eyes are finally looking in to mine, and we meet gazes with weak water between us. Never has Master seen my guilt, and never have I seen him frail; not since he became Master instead of Levi. His slender fingers return to toying with the abacus as he thinks aloud, and I remain silent, not wanting to miss a word.

 

“I suppose I just thought I’d slowly sell them off so no one would notice… but lately, I realize that is no kindness. I’d like to think they’d be better off here. I’m sure if Eren himself were in this conversation, he’d remind me to think of them as _people_ , not _property_ , and that’s what I am attempting to do.” His eyes look weary with the toll of my question. He wants badly to change his ways but is so utterly dumb to the ways of normal people. I’m no better. Eren’s no better. Though he seems to have a much better grasp of things then our broken selves. I find myself cursing when I think of his maturity above it all; making Master and I something of inept children in the fields of niceties and empathy. “I think I’ll have Eren finish their lessons, and when they are done they can decide for themselves. Stay, or go. If any of them have families to return to, I could attempt to reunite them, or give alibis of sorts. I don’t know, Hanji. I’m a mess.” He insults himself easily, almost chuckling but never losing the weary look and letting out a sigh at the end.

 

“We’re all quite the mess, aren’t we?” I attempt to lighten his mood, but doubt its effectiveness.

 

“Why have you stayed, Han? You could leave, you know. You are not bound to this place the way that I am. You could have gone back to your own family.” He tears his eyes from the multicolored beads and settles them over me with a curious look. He seems passive again; sated somehow now that we’ve worked over one issue. I need not think over my reply.

 

“My family would only have resold me, Master. I had no lingering attachment to them. Even now, there is nowhere else I would want to be. Not because I haven’t seen it, but because I am happy here; as strange as that may be to you. I know you think yourself so terrible, Master, but I know wiser. I’ll never forget your kindness, or our friendship, and I am happy to serve this house. Even happier now, knowing that you are finding some happiness of your own…” I let the words trail off, leaving my hopes for him and Eren in the air.

 

“You’re making quite a lot of assumptions about us, servant.” His smirk is back just a moment, long enough to be seen and then replaced with a passive mask.

 

“You’ve not denied a single one, either, Master.”

 

“Hm.” Is his only response as we share an understanding look and bite back the small laughter in our throats.

 

Master returns to work, but I do not move. Master’s answer to my question has only encouraged a part of me that I have held back for so long. I sit quietly and watch him, trying to work up the nerve to ask a new question; one that will reveal the only secret I have ever kept from my Master. My palms are sweating and I feel my heart racing despite nothing happening in the room. The air coming in through the cracked window is refreshing; carrying the sounds of nature’s music. The house is peaceful save for the distant sounds of chatter and clanging kitchenware. The loud hammering of my heart is such a stark contrast I am sure that Master will hear it. Eventually I have sighed for the fourth or fifth time, involuntarily, and he gives me a withering look. I take that as my cue to get on with it.

 

“The truth is, Master… there’s something else. Something that I need to tell you.” The serious tone of my shaking voice catches his attention and he once again sets aside the quill to give me his concentration. “I think I’ve… I’ve fallen in love. With one of the girls. We’ve been… seeing each other. In secret.” The words come out slow and strained. It almost hurts to say them after keeping them in for so long. His eyes go wide in surprise but otherwise he is unreadable. “I’ve kept every secret you have entrusted me, Master. I am ashamed to say that I selfishly did not extend to you that same trust, and kept this from you for so long. Please find a way to forgive me. I asked you first about the slaves because I wanted to know what would become of her…”

 

I cover my face with one hand, trying to hide the shameful blush on my cheeks and the water in my eyes; trying harder to hold composure while awaiting some response. Surely he will be angry. Perhaps he will finally punish me in some way after a lifetime of letting me be.

 

I hear him take a deep breath. “That’s…. good.” The word comes out of him simply, placed there intentionally and carefully; surprising us both but in a pleasant way. Master is looking at me with an expression so new to me. He seems… pleased.

 

The expression darkens just a bit before he asks, “Does she know…?”

 

I know immediately what he is asking. “No. I never thought that… we would have a future. She is your slave and I am your servant. But now… I think I will try telling her.”

 

“You deserve happiness, Han. It’s all I have _ever_ wanted for you. Be in love with whomever you please. I won’t be taking any slaves any more. Whoever she is, she is yours.”

 

I’m not positive what expression I give Master, or even what words spill out of my mouth in the seconds following his response. I am too swept away in the moment, deciding immediately to see Nifa and clear the air. She needs to know.

 

Before I know it, I have her slender wrist gripped between my fingers and I am pulling her through the house. She tries to question me under her breath but I manage no answer in my haste, and she quickly gives up before drawing any unneeded attention. We weave through the large kitchen, avoiding people and counters and shelves and crates. I take the stairs too quickly and she trips, only to be caught by my hasty hands. By the time we reach the door to my room, she is gasping for air and holding her side. I see her eyes find my door and read the small nameplate, which causes her breath to catch despite her need for it. I feel nothing but nervous excitement, tinged with fear and tasting of sweat, but lead her inside nonetheless. The door clicks closed quietly and I lock it with finality.

 

“Wh-what are we doing here? Everyone has seen us!” Despite the fear in her statement, her eyes are alight with happy mischief. I don’t miss her bright smile as she surveys my room for the first time, taking in every detail.

 

“Nifa, I need to speak with you.” Her attention is on me seriously now, expression dark and curious. “You cannot tell a soul what I am about to say. In fact, as usual, keep anything that happens here a compete secret. Even if people have seen us coming here, you _must_ simply pretend it has never happened. Understand?” Her large eyes are full of worry now as she crosses the room and takes my hand in both of hers.

 

“Of course, Hanji. What is it? What’s wrong? You’re crying.” I hadn’t even noticed the water in my eyes before she mentioned it, but now we both reach to wipe my cheeks dry. I hug her tightly into me so that she can’t see my face any longer.

 

“Master has told me… Master will no longer be keeping slaves.” Her arms around my waist go still in their tight grip. I hear a gasp escape her perfect lips. She is shaking slightly as she tries to pull away from me.

 

“You mean… we will be sold?” There’s a quiver in her voice that betrays her fear and sadness. “No! I… I don’t want to leave you!” I grip a hand into her hair and pull her face into my bound chest, hoping she doesn’t notice at first but then recalling that’s the exact reason we are really here.

 

“You don’t have to, Nifa.” She lets out a squeaking sound through her tears; a question, asking for clarification and comfort. “Master is going to let each of you decide what you want to do. You can stay here as a maid, or a chef, or… anything you want. You can stay with _me_.”

 

Nifa pulls back to lock eyes with me again, her cheeks wet with tears but eyes no longer shedding them. “Really, Han? Truly?” Her large eyes are so bright that they suck me in. I feel elated and suddenly serene knowing that she wants to be with me. My thumbs swipe the tears away as I bend my lips to brush hers. I feel our breath mingle, our noses nudge, before we meet in the middle. I suck at her bottom lip hungrily, giving it a soft bite. Her sweet voice lets out a pleased hum and her hands, now gripping my hips, pull us backwards towards my messy bed.

 

I don’t think. I don’t want to imagine how the rest of this meeting will go. I simply want to be lost in what I get before it’s all over. So I let her pull me on top of her, kiss her lips until they swell, nibble her neck, tug at the soft hair spread over my pillow. As my large hands knead at her hips she sighs pleasurably.

 

“I’m so happy, Han.”

 

Her silky dress is lifted up shakily. I nudge one pert nipple with my nose before licking at it like a sweet reward; grazing it with my teeth just enough to ensure she feels it. When I get a small moan, I know I have done well.

 

“I love you, Nifa.” The words are breathy and hardly a whisper. I can’t look up to meet her eyes, but feel her lungs stop through her chest beneath me. My lips don’t stop massaging down her breasts and ribs. Slowly, her fingers slip into my hair, loosening the tie and letting it fall over her. She has always liked my long hair so I allow it to drape over her and tickle her sensitive skin as I move lower and lower.

 

“Mmmmmhh- ah! I love you, too.” It is quiet and sincere, thought-out and presented just for me. Just before my lips can reach her navel, she grips my hair and pulls me back to her mouth for a deep kiss. Our tongues flick together happily, and I feel myself growing wet and ready at the sight of her. Nifa’s fingers slide up my chest, right over the bandage beneath my shirt and vest. She stops over the top button, gripping it tightly, and asks me with her eyes. She always asks. I always say no. Not tonight. I nod my head, letting my hair shake around her, and kiss her lightly once more before sitting up above her. I see her expression change from nervous to excited as she lifts herself up to meet me.

 

Her fingers only shake slightly as they begin trailing down my chest, releasing button after button. She slides the vest off of my broad shoulders, and patiently begins on my shirt buttons. When the white fabric falls from my shoulders, it lays to rest at my elbows, unmoving as she takes in the sight of my bound chest. The bandage is old, and darkened with years of use; unsightly in so many ways. I watch her face intently, taking in every small reaction. I am tense, breath frozen painfully in my confined lungs.

 

Her fingers reach up to again brush over me. She is gentle at first, but soon her hands are pressing on me, nearly pushing me back until they run around my ribs and to my back. Nifa presses herself into me, hugging me while her hands wander my back to investigate. After a few moments of silence, she finally pulls back to look at me with irritation in her eyes.

 

“Haaann!” She sounds impatient. “How on earth do I get this thing off!?” Her hands are zipping back and forth over the bandage in search of one end, fruitlessly. I can’t help but chuckle at her, letting go of the breath I was holding and instantly relaxing into her touch.

 

_She doesn’t care? She doesn’t care! God, I love this woman._

 

I lift my left arm to expose the small set of clasps near my armpit, and she flicks them off in record time; racing to see the flesh I have denied her so long. With the bandage finally undone, I am utterly exposed to her doe-like eyes as she takes me in greedily.

 

“I love you.” She repeats again as our eyes lock. Her hands are suddenly shy over my chest now, softly grazing fingertips brushing sensitive skin. Slowly, the blood flow returns to the strangled area and it starts to change from irritated skin to virgin skin. Untouched even by myself aside from the long sessions of wrapping it. The sensation of her gentle touches is almost too much as it brings gasp after gasp to my lips. Her own mouth is busy kissing the space between my small breasts. Her hands tickle at my ribs and trail around my hips and stomach.

 

_So this is how it feels to be touched by someone else…_

 

I press her back into the mattress and resume my own trail down her chest and navel. I pay special attention to her sides and thighs, where I know her to be sensitive. I tease her for as long as she will let me before finally dipping my tongue to her pink flesh and tasting every inch. She shuffles around and pulls her white dress over her head; leaving it to join the pile of clothes already on my floor. I don’t stop massaging at her clit with my tongue. Nifa sighs and moans and begs me for more. This woman who has accepted all of me will easily get anything she asks for.

 

I slide two long fingers inside, working them in rhythm with my mouth, letting her hot muscles grip me and guide me. There is a tug on my hair as she summons my head up to meet hers again. We kiss deeply, sharing the taste of her. Our naked chests press together and the feeling is so new to me that I find it far more intimate than having my fingers so deep inside her belly. My own arousal is now aching below, ready to feel _anything_ after so many years of neglect. Nifa holds me in a tight hug, begging me to move deeper and harder, slower and then faster. With her instruction I happily guide her to climax. I feel the tight heat grow tighter around me, holding me, temperature rising as she comes undone beneath me. She rides the wave down with small kisses and giggles but doesn’t stop for a moment. Already, her hands are sliding down me to the button on my pants. Instinctively, I freeze with uncertainty. She feels it and pauses her hands.

 

“Please, Han. _Let me._ ” Those eyes are pleading and hungry, much like my own, and I let her continue.

 

When the black slacks are resting atop her white gown, I find myself now on my back with Nifa hovering over me. My heart beats faster than I have ever felt. Her lips find mine and she attempts to calm their quivering. Without breaking the sweet kiss, she shuffles around until we are both covered by my thick blanket and enveloped in some private world. Somehow I feel safer here; trapped beneath her and hidden away. Nifa understands without my telling her just how vulnerable I feel at this moment, and instinctively has quelled my unease.

 

We kiss until I stop shaking and her hands have slowly made their way down me. I take deep breaths, still convinced that any moment she will change her mind and run from me; grow disgusted and tell everyone my secret.

 

Those fears are quickly gone when her small fingers reach beneath my underwear, massaging me in small circles with perfect rhythm. I gasp and groan at the new feeling. Rarely do I even touch myself, for I am often consumed with only negative memories and denials when confronted with my own anatomy. Now, none of those things haunt me. I feel only Nifa’s steady touches, working me up easily despite her inexperience. Her sweet voice shushes me and hums along with my moans as she enjoys giving me pleasure. I tense up when one small finger approaches my entrance. Even when alone, I never enter there. She gently rubs around it, dancing tentatively and judging my reactions. It takes a few moments before I give her the go-ahead, despite my body clearly begging her for it.

 

It is a strange feeling at first; like being exposed even though no one can see it. I feel myself stretch open with her working finger, and soon she adds another. Eventually the strange feeling turns into strange pleasure; her fingers pumping in and out and granting sweet friction. My hips begin to rock in time with her hand instinctively. Her palm still presses at my clit, and I feel her tongue flick at my earlobe while she whispers sweet things to me. The sensations are all building. I feel surreal doing this with her now; the true me laid bare for her to accept or deny. My hips rock hard into her hand and she picks up the pace, knowing what I want before I even know how to say it.

 

 _How can this body I’ve denied make me feel so good?_ I think tiredly; exhausted from a lifetime of ignoring my own anatomy.

 

“I…. I think I may….” I start to say, but stop. I am not sure at all what I may be about to do. I’ve never climaxed fully before, but judging by the sweet tight feeling in my stomach and the curling of my toes, this could certainly be it.

 

Her breath is again tickling at my ear, and she plants chaste kisses along my jaw. “Come for me, Han.” Her voice is an angelic whisper, urging me to do something devilish. Easily, she sends me over the edge with her urging words and small hands. My whole body tightens, searching for just the right angle as I come. It seems to last forever. It’s minutes later when my body relaxes, and her hand slides away; wet with my arousal. Her smile is mischievous and beautiful and I feel more tears in the corners of my eyes.

 

-

 

After basking in post-climactic haze, we clean up reluctantly. I remind myself that I do still have work to do, and that Nifa has missed a large portion of today’s lessons and would be more suspect if she didn’t show up before midnight. _I hope Eren doesn’t mind… or ask questions._

Nifa didn’t ask me any questions of her own, but I offered her the truth myself. I want to be a man. I do not see myself as a woman. Having sex for me will not always be easy; I won’t always want you to touch me. I will _always_ want to touch you. Is this okay? I know I am strange… Do you still want me?

 

The conversation was mostly one sided until I began to lose myself in self-doubt, to which she hushed me quickly with kind words and more kisses. She simply loves me, she’d said. She understood.

It was already past lights out when we got upstairs to the second floor, blushing and giggling like childish troublemakers. I unlocked the door after collecting our composure and I walk her to her bed.

 

Directly across from her spot is another bed, currently holding two girls hiding themselves beneath a blanket. They aren’t subtle. The bed moves and squeaks as they fondle one another much the same as Nifa and I had just done. I let myself blush in the dark room. She kicks at the end of the bed before falling down onto her own.

 

“Ymir, cut it out! What if Master saw you guys?!” Her harsh whisper is loud in the quiet room, joined only by Krista’s moans from beneath the cover.

 

“Mind your own business, Nifa. We aren’t asking where _you’ve_ been all day, are we?”

 

With that, she shut her mouth and bid me goodnight with silent laughter.

 

As I retreat back to the main floor, my emotions are in turmoil. I can’t stop myself from thinking about Nifa there among those girls, who so clearly have no filters. Jealousy takes over as I imagine any one of them flirting with her. Certainly they would. She is an angel.

 

 _As soon as Master is ready to announce the changes, Nifa will be moving in with me,_ I decide finally.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this piece of work, my partner approaches me, glancing over my shoulder and chuckling to himself.
> 
> "Quit writing about dudes getting it on!"
> 
> "I'm naaahhht!! ................ I'm writing about sexy ladies, this time."
> 
> Partner backs away slowly; now aware just how deep this rabbit hole goes.
> 
> -
> 
> Yeah. I have a problem. A big, pervy problem.  
> And I love it!


	17. The Wanting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy and the Master have become Eren and Levi; changes so potent the entire house is alive with it.

**Chapter Seventeen**

**The Wanting**

It was the highest I’d ever felt in my life. Higher than when my mother’s warm arms would toss me into the air, full of giggles and praise. Higher than I felt swinging above the branches of the old tree outside my cottage. Higher than I felt when my bare feet hit the freezing mud and jagged rocks in the forest the night I escaped from Reeves. Higher and higher I felt each time I found myself in Master- no, Levi’s presence.

 

We shared comfortable silence when in the company of others. It was a bit awkward for us; still both very new to feelings of attraction and even newer to acknowledging or understanding it. For that reason, we did not meet privately for many days; instead seeking the eyes of the other any time we would pass. Levi would simply look over me carefully, passive gaze showing nothing yet lingering as if to tell me something. I’d return the looks while failing to suppress a blush or a smile. When our hands would brush with the exchanging of a tray or document the air would change; stagnant somewhere outside of time as we both try desperately to decide what to do. I had no idea where I stood with him. He’d made it clear to me that I was more than his servant… just as I’d been hoping. But what did that make me? Where is the line? Am I allowed to approach him uninvited, or to speak with him? Can I touch him when I like? And I _do_ like…

 

In those moments of brief contact my mind would flash back to that first orgasm by Levi’s hand. How every place where his skin met mine seemed to ache with need. How it felt when his lips unconsciously pressed over my spine, breathing hot and heavy as he found pleasure with me. I never expected to finish; I never had before. No matter how much you don’t enjoy what’s happening to you, your body can still respond to the stimulus. Reeves had shown me that enough times, much to my horror. Somehow, however, I had always held back that one thing; taken that one small defiance as my own. When Levi had begun touching me, I never even had such a thought. There was no defiance then; no distaste. I loved every moment. Wanted it, even. Still, the eventual eruption of pleasure had me dizzy and breathless and utterly shocked. Now, the electricity in the air between us travels straight to my groin; leaving me to blush and freeze and eventually turn away in embarrassment.

 

We did not spend the nights together despite how I hoped we would. I wondered briefly if he was simply waiting for me in that room, high above the rest of the house where the heat didn’t always reach; cold and alone and expecting me to move first. Years as a servile existence held me back with invisible binds. Instead I sat in my own room each night, thinking of him and rubbing at the ache in my chest.

 

Hanji would smile knowingly, and I would turn red. Regardless of where I went outside of my own chamber I felt eyes on me, as if everyone had taken to watching me. The girls would stare hard at me during lessons, as if attempting to solve some puzzle. They were all coming far in their studies, despite their teacher being the only distraction.

 

For the sake of my mental health, I finally gave in to Hanji’s invitation to the nightly poker games, under the condition I could play without betting for a time, to adjust. Unlike the first night I had been invited, I wore the collar openly over my neck where everyone could see it. It felt ice cold under their glances, never letting me forget its presence, which only served to secretly excite me. There wasn’t a person in this house that didn’t know the collar. But now, it was wrapped around my neck instead of a slave’s, never moving from its perch and never acknowledged even by the Master of the house who owns it. Who owns _me,_ in both senses of the word. Hanji’s smirk eventually became too much, and I left without winning a single round.

 

Now, weeks later, I walk through the halls as they light up with an afternoon glow. The summer heat is keeping in everyone not needed outside, so the place is unusually noisy. Ever since Master began changing, really, has the place been livelier. People chat and laugh openly, playing games or telling jokes in the moments of rest between tasks. Even the girls still confined to the second floor can’t be brought down; spending the days practicing their penmanship and bouncing jovially from bed to bed.

 

I turn around a corner and into the supply closet to deposit a stack of fresh washcloths on a shelf, ensuring they sit in the proper space in perfectly folded squares. When the closet has been straightened, I check the small list of tasks in my pocket and see that Hanji has assigned me to the polishing. I dislike shining the wood all over the house as it leaves me smelling like fake lemons and tar; not to mention the stains I always get in my fingernails. With a sigh, the list is shoved back into my pocket and I leave back down the hall.

 

As I round the corner again, my eyes instantly catch on the figure before me. Only centimeters shorter than I now, strong muscle wrapped in fine fabrics, sharp eyes like water.

 

“Le….vi.” I breath it out unconsciously, saying his name without a prefix for the first time since he gave me permission. He stops, surprised, and meets my gaze. There is a softness there that sends shivers through me.

 

“Eren.” His head inclines but his beautiful eyes never leave mine save for a glance over my nervous form; always looking me over carefully in a way that makes my knees weak. There is a long silence where neither knows what to say, caught in the surprise meeting. My fingers twitch at my sides, fighting me to reach out to him and caress any part I can manage. His eyes flick to them, knowing, and then to the collar on my neck. I feel it press into my flesh as I swallow the lump in my throat. “You….” He begins quietly, pulling me to attention; ears aching already to hear each sound he makes for me. His own hands are twitching now and his own throat seems to constrict as he finds his words. _Could he really be just as nervous as me?_ “You could join me… tonight. If you’d like.” The last part comes out hastily, and it takes me moments to really process. I can’t find any words as my mind whirls with possibilities, so I nod and he quickly continues down the hall. I stand there for long minutes before I find my own feet.

 

_If I like. If I like._

_It isn’t an order. It’s an invitation. Master can’t bring himself to make the first move… but surely he knows I can’t bring myself to, either…_ _what a compromise!_

 

The grin I wear for the remainder of the day becomes painful to my cheeks.

 

-

 

Once the sun has gone down and the house is mostly quiet, I begin my ritual.

 

First, I strip my clothing slowly and meticulously; mechanically slipping out of the fabric and folding each item even as it goes into the hamper. I stand naked in my small room, avoiding the mirror until I am clean. Using the large washbasin, I scrub every inch of skin twice over; finishing with my hair. The smell of polish is harsh and takes time to get out. I use the same soap for everything, every time, making the scent _mine_ and ensuring it is all Levi will smell when he is near me. This has become my way of thinking in the months I have spent preparing this body for him.

 

Once dried, my hair fluffs outwards and refuses to be tamed; but that too is a part of the ritual. I stare at my form in the mirror now, taking in the bits of muscle I have developed while working and finding no traces of the bone-thin frame I carried when I arrived here. All I need now is a bit of sunlight over my pale skin.

 

 _Some day…_ I think solemnly. _This broken and used body will one day have freedom._

 

I tighten the collar around my neck first, and follow it up with a forest-green casual sweater Hanji had brought me from town. A pair of black slacks completes the look, leaving me to feel repetitive and uninteresting. _What does Mas-… what does Levi think of my appearance?_

 

The thought follows me up the spiral to the door of his chamber. My palms are already sweating again and my heart taps out a painful beat against my chest. Unconsciously, my fist matches the rhythm over the wooden door; sounding out hastily in the quiet. Agonizing seconds pass before Levi answers and motions me inward.

 

“Good evening, Eren.” There is a heavy pause; thick with a mix of surprise, joy, and… nerves. “Thank you… for coming.”

 

I stop just inside the door, letting him close it behind me. Our bodies are just inches apart, and each segment of air seems charged with fire and electricity. I want so badly to reach out and embrace him after so many nights away from this place that has become so familiar. His gaze is unusually conflicted and unreadable. The moment is gone when he shuffles past, not meeting my gaze and quite obviously avoiding contact. _He’s definitely nervous._ I almost chuckle as the realization hits me.

 

“Don’t thank me, Levi. I am very happy you have invited me.” There is a light dust of pink over his perfect cheeks, quickly lost to me as he sits in his usual chair which faces away from the door. He says nothing and I decide to make a move, wiping the sweat from my palms as I do. _Grow a pair, Eren! As if this is the time to sit stunned, after all you’ve been through!_

 

Levi’s plush bed dips beneath me as I sit on its edge, intentionally not taking the seat before Levi. I stare intently at him, letting him see that I know exactly what I am doing with the freedom he has gifted me. “So…” It comes out squeaky and immature and completely contradicts the confident image I’m desperately trying to display. “What now?” I try again with stronger resolve.

 

He doesn’t answer. His silver eyes a warm in the candlelight and looking right into me. Although his face seems relaxed, he sits rigid in the seat with his hands digging in to the armrests. After a long minute of nothing, I accept that he is frozen in place. “You… don’t quite know what to do, do you?” His head shakes to tell me I am right, almost imperceptible. “Come here,” I motion to the bed as innocently as I can, urging him to understand that this is what I _want_. I am not here because of some order, or because I am afraid. I simply want to be near him. His hands release the armrests, and his feet scrape the floor as he begins to move, but he stops. Hesitating just once more and asking with his knit eyebrows. My hand waves impatiently, beckoning him to me as I wiggle into the covers.

 

As if released from a spell, he springs forth and into the sheets where my arms await again. This time, however, his arms snake around me, positioning me where he wants so that I am being held by him rather than the other way around as we had done in the past. My nose is pressed into his chest where I can smell the crisp clean laundry soap and the scent of his skin. Immediately I feel his breathing calm and find my own body relaxing along with him. Minutes pass like this before I find the courage to reach my hands up and around his slender waist. His thin shirt tickles us both as it moves beneath my fingers; tracing the lines of his hips and around to his strong back where they massage at the tense muscles. I hear small gasps escape his lips, encouraging me to continue the ministrations up into his shoulder blades. As if to thank me, Levi’s hands work into my hair and over my scalp.

 

“Levi…” The name is still new on my lips, making them tingle any time I say it and immediately exciting me with the intimacy of it. “You’re acting… different. Not bad different! Just… different. Are you alright?” I try to get my meaning across and instead feel childish. His hand pauses momentarily in my hair but quickly resumes its work.

 

“I have spent hours of every day wondering how to… approach… this.” His voice is a hoarse whisper. “I’ve never known a relationship that wasn’t give or take, Eren. Everyone in my life has either been above me or beneath me. It’s been very hard for me to figure out how to just be… equal. I want to be equals.” Although I can hear the weakness in his voice it somehow seems empowering. Levi is telling me his deepest thoughts, with well thought-out words and sincerity. I don’t stop working my fingers over his back, not wanting to change anything for fear of distracting him. “There isn’t a single thing between us, Eren, that has ever felt… _normal_. From the first moment you fell before me, I have been in conflict.” His hand slowly slides from my hair and strokes at my neck with tender pressure, tickling around the collar, causing me to shiver with anticipation even during the serious conversation. “What I mean is… this is all very new to me. I want to be close to you. It’s terrifying. The closest person to me is Han, and that’s purely a platonic coexistence. How does one coexist with someone they can’t _control?_ I want to treat you properly. I don’t know _how_. How do I tell you what I want without it being an _order_? Do you see, Eren? I’m too broken to give you what you want…” His voice is cracking, grip tightening over my neck as he admits things I am sure he’s never said aloud.

 

“How do you know what I want?” It comes out childishly defiant, but I mean it with every fiber of my being. “Do you think I am any better? I’ve been a slave for so long… I am worried you will only ever see me as something filthy. I have been used by some scumbag countless times; it’s a blessing you would even _touch_ me! I have no idea what a functional relationship looks like outside of my own parents, who I haven’t seen in years… but here I am. I’m not going to run away, and I won’t let you.” _Relationship._ Now we have both said the word; though unable to specify what sort of relationship we want, it’s clear there’s something there. I feel determination fill me. Levi has admitted he wants me… he practically admitted he wants a relationship with me! My mind is working over his worries so earnestly, trying to find a solution that could work for us even as he begins speaking again and I only half hear it.

 

“You are _not_ filthy, Eren. I’ve never thought you were anything less than perfect, even when I swore I’d never look at a man in such a way…” His warm breath tickles my skin and hair while his fingers work around the collar; the symbol of my feelings I have taken for myself.

 

“Levi, I want you.” The open plea sounds airy, more breath than word as I desperately search for the means to convince him that I am not here to take _orders_ , and I won’t let him give them- not the way he thinks. My ears burn red with blush and his breath catches as he is pulled from his train of thought. “We can still do the things we have been doing. Tell me what you want. It isn’t an _order_. I want it just as much as you do.” To emphasize my point, seeing the doubt on his face, I pull my entire body close to his so that my growing arousal presses into his leg. He growls in response, finally sounding like the hungry man I knew as my Master, and presses back with sweet friction. Quickly, I feel his own shaft growing hard in his pants against my stomach.

 

His hands grip my shoulders tight and direct me until I am sitting up against the headboard and he sits before me at the end of the bed; watching. “Strip for me, Eren.” The voice that falls over me is the Master I know; deep and velvety with a sweet kind of plea. It sounds just like the orders he has given me for months, and my body is instantly responding. My cock grows painfully hard, pressing into my zipper, and my skin becomes dappled with goosebumps. When my eyes meet Levi’s, however, the mood fades.

 

His brows are creased again with a look of discontent, and his head shakes slowly. “No… don’t, I-… I’m not ordering you….”

 

The blood rushing to my groin is heated; irritated that this man can’t see just how much those words drive me wild. I fight for a solution as he sits there, looking defeated even as I can see how badly he wants me, too.

 

“Fine. What about this,” I plead with him, “We can still do things like we have been, if you like… you can use toys and ropes and everything, _but…”_ I emphasize this part so he understands it is different; it is important, “if there is anything I don’t want or like, I simply say so. I can walk away whenever I want. The same goes for you. That’s what it means to be mutual, Levi.” His head is shaking, trying to argue.

 

“But wh- what if I tie you up, or gag you, and you can’t walk away or say no?” I can hear in his voice how badly he wants to do those things; mind jumping from toy to toy and how we can use them, and my own body responding to the thoughts as well.

 

“Damnit, Levi, we’ll figure it out! We can have a special word, or signal, or… fuck, I don’t know! I just want you!” There’s a desperation in my voice as I try to get him to understand, and his face melts into his usual neutral expression as he seems to finally get it. “I want all of it. I want the domination when you’re in pain, the harsh words, the punishment! I like it, as shameful as that may be! But that isn’t all you are. You’re also kind even when you don’t know it, and thoughtful. We can work this out together. Just… let me help.” I begin removing my clothing as he had asked, slowly like I do when alone in my room. I let the shirt fall to the floor, followed by my pants until I am sitting before him in only my underwear; half-hard erection apparent against the tight fabric.

 

His features harden into a mask of dominance, and already I can feel myself going fully erect again. “Take off your clothing, Eren. Touch yourself for me.” The sultry vibrato seems to settle over my flesh more than my ears. Every inch of me is excitedly anticipating this. Never has he simply watched me before, and my hand shakes as I move it down beneath my waistband.

 

I feel the blush on my cheeks, and can’t meet his gaze. I choose instead to focus on the teasing display I give him as my hand moves beneath the dark grey material, playing with the sensitive flesh until I am perfectly hard and barely contained. Gingerly, I slip out of them, letting the length spring free happily. When I spare a glance at Levi, his eyes are alight and glued to my hands as they move over my body. I trace the lines of my muscles and bones, following all of the sensitive spots of neglected skin before bringing them back over my cock. I lean back again, shaky with nervous desire, legs spread just enough to tantalize as I give it long, slow strokes. His tongue flicks over his lips. “Do you like what you see… Master?” I try the name out again, falling into it like a lifeboat on the threatening ocean. There is a part of me ready to forget each and every moment of my past and restart it all here with this man. I only hope he would do the same. His frozen face seems to soften into a flirtatious glare as he understands; this is only play. “…If I say First, everything’s good; keep going. If I say Second, slow down; give me a minute. If I say Third, stop immediately; we are done. Okay?” Our eyes meet and he nods, accepting my leadership in this one thing.

 

He begins to slowly undress as well, being sure that I am watching him as each item falls from his frame. “I do. I like it very much.” He finally answers, gaze searching my skin hungrily. “Do you do this often, Eren? You seem to know what you like.” Those pink lips smirk up at me playfully, making me feel like the roast at a feast.

 

“Just recently… since that time… when we…” I can’t finish it, unsure how to even speak when his own erection springs free and he is naked before me as well; perched at the end of the bed where only our legs can mingle together.

 

“Ah, I see… I’ve thought about that time, too. Among all of the terrible thoughts haunting me daily, you still manage to be the dazzling light amongst them.” Levi’s hands are tracing his body as well, though it seems stiff and awkward as if he isn’t sure at all what he wants to do with them. “I want to see how you pleasure yourself. What makes you feel good, Eren? Show me.” His slender fingers trace up milky thighs to find hard length, and I watch him tentatively stroke at it while watching me intently. The feel of his eyes on my skin is too much and I have to grip tightly a moment to keep myself from growing too excited.

 

I give a pleasurable hiss when my hand resumes, letting him know with every sound and movement that I am enjoying myself completely. Eventually the simple stroking isn’t enough. I crave more. The bed shifts beneath me as I adjust positions; laying flatter and curving my spine so that my fingers can reach the neglected hole behind me. Our eyes are locked, and I can’t stop the lewd gasps escaping me as I circle my entrance; vision full of Levi and his hard cock and all of the memories I have of it. Moments later he is tossing the oil at me with an eager smile and I lube up generously, going straight for two fingers. I poor a bit of oil over my shaft as well, feeling slippery and shining before the man that drives me crazy.

 

The pressure begins to build too soon as I fuck myself on my fingers, stroking hastily with the other hand. Levi’s own hand is moving faster, and I can’t stop myself from hoping he will enter me; make me whole again. He moves closer, looking both eager and nervous when his own fingers slide up next to my own. He replaces them one by one, until he fills me up and my own hand lays lamely in the sheets. “Ah…. Yes, Master! So good.” I practically moan the words in my excitement. Master is touching me! _Levi_ is touching me! He is giving me pleasure; selflessly.

 

“You look so good like this, Eren.” His fingers explore me, scissoring and curling until he finds the spot he once informed me about. It sends jolts of unfamiliar pleasure through me. “You’re falling apart under my hands.” _It’s true!_ I think, embarrassed even as my other hand falls from my shaft only to be replaced by his own. Suddenly, he is stroking me inside and out, finding good rhythm and pulling moan after moan through my lips. My hole tightens over his working fingers, gripping one hand as I spill over the other in orgasm.

 

“M-Master, ahh…. Yes, oh god!”

 

The bed shifts again and he is gone, already in the washroom while I ride down the high with shaky bones. He returns quickly and set his molten gaze back on me. “Come here, Eren.” His knees are pressed at the edge of the bed, and I meet them there; already on my stomach with mouth opened wide, taking in his length as deeply as I can. My voice comes out around it in vibrating groans each time I thrust him into my throat. “Ahh-! Very good, Eren. Good boy. So fucking good.” He lavishes each flick of my tongue with praise that reaches so deep into me it _becomes_ me; I am nothing but Eren, the good boy, who’s so good at making his Master feel amazing. There is nothing else. My hands massage at his thighs and hips, gripping tight at the flesh so I can taste its salty perfection forever.

 

“ _Yes!_ ” He calls loudly, his hands travelling down my back and ass greedily. “Take it all in, Eren. Don’t spill a drop.” He commands, hands coming down over my soft cheeks in resounding slaps as he comes; hot and musky down my throat. I drink greedily, relishing the sting in my rump and the fullness in my belly. “Good… Eren. Wonderful. Perfect.” He praises endlessly as he slips out of me with a lewd pop, helping me to my feet with a gentle gesture; softness in his eyes akin to worry. I try to give him a reassuring smile, to let him know that it was all fine; better than fine!

 

After cleaning me up meticulously and slapping my hands away any time I attempted to do it myself, he leads me to the bed again where we change the sheets and collapse. His hands trace over my tender ass, massaging the pink flesh while I nuzzle my face into his hair, arms wrapped around his neck. When the haze of post-orgasm has faded from each of us, and sleepy fog rolls over instead, he finally seems to relax.

 

“You really like having control, right, Levi?” I keep my voice low, letting the atmosphere lead me. “It seemed like you enjoyed it, even though it was different from usual…”

 

“I have never given up control; not from the moment I attained it from my Uncle. Almost like a birthright…”

 

My hand plays idly with the longer strands of hair atop his head, never stopping as I lean back to look him in the eye.

 

“Then control me, Levi. Let all other things fall away when we are together. We will use the safe words, and come up with signals eventually… it’ll be fine. It helps you, and I like it. It’s different… with you.” _Than with Reeves,_ I almost say, but stop. I don’t want to remind him of those things now. “We can be Master and Slave in bed; and equals everywhere else.”

 

He seems out of things to say, having already spoken more deeply about himself today than usual. His head nods lazily and his eyes fall closed. We spend another night closely wrapped together.

 

It was peaceful, for a while.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this story has become increasingly hard for me.
> 
> This is because the Levi that I love is canon Levi; hardened in battle and spirit but still so caring and earnest. The Levi I have written in this story is the 'cold, heartless, abusive' Levi that so many Ereri shippers hate. It wasn't my intention for his changes to take this long; I wanted softer Levi here quickly, but it simply wouldn't happen overnight. So it's been a long time coming. I'm apologizing now if any of you will dislike the Levi from here on out. He is still the bossy man with a control kink, but he is also a man trying hard to show compassion and atone for his mistakes. I hope everyone can enjoy this story even as it adopts more fluff. (There will still be kinky times to come, so don't fret!)
> 
> This story was also originally meant to be quite short - no more than 3 or 5 chapters! But even as I was writing the first chapter, I could tell it wouldn't pan out that way. I was getting way into it and trying hard to build every piece of the universe and characters. There was no way I could stop the words from coming and it grew into such a long thing. Already 17 chapters! Shit. What have I done!?
> 
> I have no idea how many more chapters this story will have. Although I map it out roughly to almost 30, it could always come out less or more. I hope you will all stay with me until then! <3
> 
> P.S. I have a Tumblr that I am only recently starting to use regularly. I am very new to Tumblr and not very good at it's nuances. Feel free to follow me and I shall return the gesture. You can also glimpse some more of my mediocre art there.
> 
> sleazyjeezy.tumblr.com


	18. The Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi ventures out of the house.  
> The servants spend a day seeing their Master for the first time as a man.  
> An enemy disturbs their peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge-normous thank you to a certain reader-san, who has gifted me with my first ever fan art, [here!](http://duckie520.tumblr.com/image/137940893547) I am so humbled. So unworthy. Thank you!! <3

**Chapter Eighteen**

**The Enemy**

The house is different. Of course, I knew it would be. I just didn’t know how much I would like it.

 

Eren and I have had time now to grow closer. No longer do I shrink into a mass of nerves and uncertainty when he tries to get close. I have learned to relax and allow him to take me into his arms; to allow myself to take him into mine. With the admittance of my guilt, a weight has been lifted from me. Although I will never feel free of that haunting past, I now feel that perhaps I can move forward.

 

In small moments of daydream, I will remember Eren’s own past. I remember that he cannot move forward. His tormenter is still out there. His past is still present. But then I see his face, all soft lines and bright smiles when he looks at me, and I push it away. Selfishly, I want more time to heal without thinking about those things. Never wanting to remember that one day I will have to make a choice that could turn me into a murderer again. How will we stop Reeves, without abandoning this home and its people, or exposing everyone to danger? There are only so many solutions that come to mind. None of which I am ready to handle. So I suppress it and relieve it in only small increments, as Eren and I touch and feel our way through the warm summer nights.

 

The servants and staff have all lightened considerably; Hanji opening up to the other servants and learning to relax. Even Annie, usually so cold and distant, has been seen relaxing in a corner with some small paper craft no one knew she could do. The girls on the second floor seem to have taken on a new light. I visit them every few days, watching through the window; too afraid to show my face. Sometimes I will stand there on the other side of the glass for hours when Eren is there. His lessons go on all afternoon despite his insistence that they have little left to learn. I think he just enjoys their company, which has me curious if I would have enjoyed it had I been a different man. Well, _enjoyed_ in a very new sense to what I’ve been accustomed to. Today I decide to leave at just such a time, while Eren is enthralled in some game meant to teach them the difference between their I’s and Y’s, C’s and K’s. He is a good teacher.

 

My usual house suit won’t do for a public appearance. The colors are all fading and the fit isn’t perfect. I dig out my town attire and give it a whiff. It’s acceptably dust-free. The dark grey is accentuated by black trim, with black buttons I had lined with twisting strands of silver years ago. Hanji helps me fix on the silk cravat, shimmering with silver greys of its own. He holds me in a tight glare.

 

“You haven’t left the house in ages, Master. Where exactly will we be going?” I expected questions. Hanji has always been too inquisitive for his own good.

 

“ _We_ are not going anywhere, Hanji. I’ll be going myself. I have already called on a carriage, and should be back in a few hours.” He looks hurt and surprised that I would venture out alone, but accepts my resolve as I leave him behind in my room to do the afternoon cleaning.

 

“Well then!” Is all I hear of his annoyance before I’ve reached the bottom of the staircase.

 

The carriage ride is rather relaxing. It takes the better part of an hour to get into town from my manor, and the fee isn’t something trivial. Most of the residents living so far from town own their own carriages, but I have never been one for travel or riding. Horses stink up the property and require staff to upkeep, and all of that require money. I may as well simply pay the carriage fee on the few occasions I _do_ leave. I tell myself it has nothing to do with how giant the beasts are or how their gaping mouths are full of teeth that could easily mistake my slim fingers for carrots. Could horses see in color? I didn’t care to get to know one well enough to find out.

 

An hour in the noon heat was enough to make me drowsy and I am more than happy to take the small step down to the street when we reach our destination. The shop awaiting me has this fantastic new invention in place that keeps it very cool and welcoming. Some contraption of spinning blades that hangs from the ceiling. It all seems very dangerous to me; like some old torture device from my history novels. I’d love to have one in my office, at least for intimidation purposes.

 

The shelves are lined with velvets of deep, rich color. There’s a tint on the window keeping passer-byes from peeking that casts a warm glow over the open spaces, like the forbidden corners of the red-light districts. In a boring town like this, this shop is likely the closest taste to such a place the residents would have.

 

“Welcome! How can I help you, young Master?” The old shopkeeper’s presence is mirrored to the dust littering his business. Old, lingering, quiet, gentle; but ultimately in the way and unwanted.

 

“I’m here for something specific but I would like to browse myself. I will call upon you should I need you.” He bows respectfully and takes leave to the back room, hidden from sight by a heavy velvet curtain that matches the shelving.

 

I start by circling the shop as whole, looking at the items lining the walls and windows before turning inward to the locked glass cases of expensive materials. The racks of hanging clothing sway under the breeze created by the wind-blades; all silks and satins, netted mesh and lace made for slender waists and curving hips. _Those won’t help me, will they?_ I think with a smirk. _No, the one we are here for is far different from the women these garments were intended._

 

My eyes catch on one long case, situated close to the curtain the man now dwells behind. In it, row upon row of thick leather strips are displayed. Ordered by color, size, trims, ornaments, and price. One strip catches my eye, and I reflexively palm at the glass, imagining it between my fingers.

 

“Shopkeep, I’d like to see this here.” I call out towards the swaying curtain and he emerges almost instantly. When he sees where I stand, he immediately hustles over, taking a loop of keys from his belt.

 

“Ahh, yes. Beautiful choices we have here. All genuine leathers imported from a farm to the south. These are all pre-lined, but we can get you a clean strip and line it with whatever you like.” He pulls from the case the piece I requested, and places it firmly in my hand. A good salesman; already helping me to imagine owning it, telling me its features before I’ve even asked. “The accessories are all interchangeable, customizable, and optional! Sold separately, of course,” His eyes flick over my attire and the ornate cane at my side that bears my family symbol. I watch his face as he processes the ornate _A_ , accompanied by the carved horse, silver horn pointing dangerously in his direction. _An Ackerman_ , his lips almost say before he gathers himself.

 

“I can afford it.” I say, amused. He nods, quite certain I can. “I like this rich brown here. The black lining it has is fine. I need you to attach these adornments before I leave. Is that possible?” I point to a pure gold stump, identified as a clasp only by the hole through the middle of it. Second is a small gold lock, shaped in an oval around an emerald and rather inconspicuous compared to the rest in the case.

 

“I’ll get my tools,” He says, scooping up the pieces and retreating to the back room again. “Wait for me there, I’ll do it to your liking.”

 

The man is professional in his movements, and each tool like an extension of himself. He pierces the leather easily despite his old muscles, and inserts the clasp to the end opposite the small hole it’s meant to slip through. When that is done, he bends the leather and joins the ends. It is stiff and new and awkward; like the relationship it’s meant to symbolize. When he drives the lock home and hands me the key, I deem it perfect. With a practiced flair, I retrieve my coin purse and tip the man generously, thanking him for the work and the beautiful paper wrapping.

 

I ride home. The heartbeat in my chest outpaces the thumping horse hooves, and the leather ring in my lap feels heavy with the weight of implications. _Surely it will burn a hole through this flimsy paper before I get it home!_ I smile, feeling elated and completely strange. I feel alien in my own body.

 

Hanji doesn’t ask where I’ve gone, merely smiles at my safe return to assure me he is over the small betrayal of leaving him.

 

Evening comes, and I dine in the large hall alone, as always. The other staff will have their meals together late in the night after I have retired, as always. Always. A practiced routine of loneliness. I imagine their new light-hearted bantering filling this empty, cold space with warmth. I wonder why I have spent so many years stuck in my painful ways.

 

 _You were punishing yourself_. _You didn’t trust them._

 

 _Not anymore_ , I answer back.

 

“Hanji?” I call out, hoping he is sticking close in the hall as he normally would at meal time.

 

“Yes, Master Levi?” His hair dusts over one shoulder when he bows his head, tied tight but still long enough to sway. I admire the serene expression he often carries these days. He looks young again.

 

“When my meal is prepared, is the rest of the food prepared as well?” The confusion is evident on his face.

 

“You mean the staff’s food? Yes. We prepare each meal for everyone together, but our food gets heated again later when it time for us to eat.”

 

I look down at my plate, still full and growing cold as I sit here alone, unable to stomach it.

 

“Where are the other tables? The ones we use for parties.”

 

Hanji informs me that all spare furnishings are kept in the storehouse, at the back of the manor. Nothing could have shocked him more than when I stood and beckoned him to follow me, urging him to unlock the old door, opening it against the strong evening wind.

 

We bring two of the long tables inside; each taking an end in partnership. He stops questioning me half-way through the polishing of the second table, resigned to getting no answers. By the time we have pulled in all of the chairs and cleaned them as well, it is far past my meal time and closing in on theirs.

 

“Take my plate to the kitchen and heat it again with the others. We will eat in here.”

 

I think, if not for the fact that Hanji hasn’t had dinner yet, he would have shat himself in shock.

 

I sit in my usual spot at the table end, now flanked by two identical tables. Eren is sat to my left, looking completely shocked but hardly suppressing a sly smile. Hanji sits to my right after settling all of the other staff into their seats and ensuring everyone has a heaping plate of food and full drink. The atmosphere is quiet, stunned.

 

“Thank you all for joining me.” I say it as earnestly as I can, but it comes out quiet and almost nervous. Even at almost a whisper, my voice rings loudly through the silent room. “From now on, this is how I would like to dine. Surrounded by people. Warm people, who smile, and laugh, and enjoy their food wholly and unabashedly. I know this seems strange. ‘Why now?’, you’re likely all wondering. The simple fact is that I have been cold and alone for too long. I would like to change. I hope that you all will help me. To anyone who doesn’t want to be here, you are free to dine wherever you like, whenever you like. I am simply extending an invitation to all of you, to join me here every evening for dinner.” I raise my glass, the first taste of red wine I have indulged in for years, and incline my head in informal toast.

 

Some of them take a while to warm up, and a few do indeed leave to have their meal elsewhere. Those who stay are jovial, and the picture is exactly what I had hoped for: a variety of souls coming together over a good meal. Yet another thing I only know of from novels, but perfectly good in real life as well. I drink my full glass until the warmth takes me, leaving me tingling, all while restricting Eren’s intake from his champagne flute.

 

“As if I’ll forget your reaction from last time.”

 

“That was different!” He protests.

 

“I don’t care.” I finalize.

 

“Leviii!” He whines, comfortable in the warm atmosphere and clearly as effected by the champagne as I’d feared. We both freeze, realization upon us.

 

A few people nearby turn their heads, looking surprised and uncertain that they’d really heard it- Master’s name! Said casually by a servant! I send them each hard looks, wilting them instantly. Eren is pure guilt and flushed cheeks, but I can’t find the will to be angry at any of it. Today has been a fine day. I decide to let him finish the flute, damage done.

 

Hanji fixes us both with his usual knowing grin, a glint in his eyes so content. However, in the moments he thinks I am not looking, there is sadness. I know why when I see his eyes scan the room of staff members and come away hurt. _He wishes the slaves were here. He wishes_ she _was here._

 

The plates around us mostly clean, and glasses mostly empty. I decide to finish my announcements, and tap the glass to gather attention.

 

“There is one more reason I have called you all here tonight.” The loud talk turns into quiet murmurs of nervous energy as all eyes find me now standing before them. “I know you have all noticed this, but allow me to speak of the elephant in the room,” Many of them look about the room, utterly perplexed. “I have not been kind. Ever. I know that.” The murmurs go silent again, and the silence is louder, somehow. “Recently I have come to understand many things about myself, and I have made a choice. One I hope I will not regret….” I pause, taking in their questioning gazes.

 

“Tonight I announce your freedom. This means, simply, that anyone here is free to go. If you are here under contract, I will sign it off as void and you may leave. Anyone who would like to leave may do so, and anyone who does will receive a small severance pay to help you while finding new employment. If you hate it here, yet are bound by money, please feel reassured that you may seek happiness elsewhere.” I hope, deeply, that my words are reaching them. That they understand that I will no longer rule over them with fear or power. That I want them to be happy, and if they are unhappy, I want them gone.

 

_This house will no longer harbor the demons of those dark emotions._

 

“Those who stay, please know that there will be changes. You will have freedom to do whatever you like, so long as your basic duties are completed as expected. You are still employees, but many of you _live_ in this house. That is something I have somehow forgotten. You live here, as well, and we share this place. I would like for you to all feel, at least in some small way, that this is a home.”

 

I have run out of words, and they have yet to find any through the shock. I allow them all to sit, pensive and skeptical, and touch a hand to Eren’s arm. Reflexively, he stands and follows, too close to be confused as anything but _mine_. We move as a pair, one couple, out of the dining hall and up the spiral.

 

“That was _amazing,_ Levi!” He declares loudly, as soon as we’ve entered my chamber. “I have goosebumps! You are wonderful.” Eren’s eyes soften into my own, hands coming to my shoulders and pulling me close, only inches between us. His breath tickles at my lips, so close, but neither of us has any intention of closing that space. Not yet. But looking at him like this, I feel it.

 

 _You are wonderful_ , he says with every glance, every touch, every breath. I feel it. Probably for the first time in my life.

 

Not one to bask peacefully in a moment, I cut away; hiding my face full of emotions. “I have something for you.” He allows me to rummage through the closet alone and sits instead on the edge of the bed, waiting.

 

“Don’t tell me you went out today to get me something?”

 

I stop, feeling a small blush and getting frustrated. “How did you know I went anywhere? You were with the girls.”

 

“If you honestly think you can venture in to town all by yourself without the entire house going in to a gossip-fueled uproar, you are sadly mistaken.” His playful smile grates on my nerves just a bit; annoyed at being found out so quickly.

 

“Shut up and open it.”

 

I ignore every doubtful thought running through my head, hoping he will like it and understand it. Eren’s long fingers are careful as he pulls away the adhesive, not tearing the paper at all even as he shakes with nervous tension. “You got me… something…” It isn’t a question, as the answer would be obvious. More like a breathy attempt at understanding. Already I can see his eyes getting watery, and I remember that baffling time he cried after realizing I had given him that book. _The book!_ That futile attempt at reconciling my emotions, I think. I had wanted Eren to understand that he was more than a slave, and remind him that he had seen his birthday, afterall. He didn’t have to worry about that dreaded day. But in the end I believe I had only been fulfilling my subconscious desire to make him happy. A desire I had no idea I even possessed back then. Now, that desire is surging up almost painfully. A sharp feeling in the center of my gut, pulling my muscles tight in an attempt to contort them into a marionette made up entirely of _Please Eren, make him happy, make him safe, never let him leave you._

 

When the paper falls over my boot, I am brought back to the scene before me. Eren, tears beginning in his eyes, holding the collar tenderly in the air. Watching the light shine on the gem just as it does in his eyes and feeling the soft velvet of the inside on his fingertips. He doesn’t speak. He likely can’t find the words, _or make them work_ , I think as I see his lips tremble and attempt.

 

I sigh, content. My fingers brush the hair from his wet eyes before it can stick there, moving down to the tender flesh behind his ears, then settling along the line of the old collar. I trace it, saying goodbye, and his skin twitches with anticipation as I slip the leather out of its fastenings. He is suddenly free of it, shuddering as if cold and naked already. His eyes won’t meet mine, so I tip his chin and help them, feeling his jaw move while he struggles still to say something.

 

His shaking arms bring the collar up and present it to me. It is perfect when beside him; all matching browns and greens, gold waiting to contrast beautifully with his darker skin. In a moment, I imagine him smiling at me beneath the sunlight; venturing together outdoors where his skin would take on the natural tan he is missing. This is perhaps the first time I have imagined myself outside in any happy scenario, and I am glad to find myself wanting it to be true. Perhaps I am healing, afterall. When his lips finally part, taking in a sharp breath with resolve to finally speak, the words fall short at the sound of my door flying open rudely.

 

“Master! Forgive me for intruding, but you’ll need to punish me later! Put some clothing on and come with me!” Hanji’s voice is frantic, yet still amused, and when I take stock of him I see he has a large hand over his eyes dramatically.

 

“Hanji, we _aren’t-_ it’s not-…. What is going on!?”

 

His hand falls away reluctantly, and he peeks open one eye to check my claims. Eventually confirming we are indeed fully clothed and not caught in the midst of a romp, he looks almost disappointed. “We all thought after dinner and all that wine you would-, ah, nevermind! No time! Come downstairs, Master. We’ve caught an intruder.”

 

Hanji attempts to stop us on the stairs, looking at Eren hesitantly, as if he shouldn’t follow. Immediately, I am all nervous anxiety again; full of fear that someone is here to take Eren away, and rage that anyone would dare. He doesn’t get the unspoken hint, and plows past us as Hanji and I are locked in a battle of uncertainties. _Why is Eren going down there? Hasn’t it occurred to him who it could be!?_

My fears are confirmed when we round the corner, Eren in the lead and Hanji behind shouting direction. The intruder is my office, arms tied tight at the elbows and wrists, knees forced to the floor by Mike and Auruo; the cook and gardener. Suddenly I am forced to face that which I have been running from: Eren’s past, chasing me down so soon after my own. _I am battle-weary enough already._

 

The intruder is Reiner, covered in dirt and moisture from the dew brought on by night. He reminds me of Eren, the first night he showed up, filthy and kneeling on his knees in this very office.

 

I feel sick. Eren runs.

 

His quick form pushes past Hanji and I before anyone can mutter a word, and he is gone. I hear his steps, loud as he runs up the stairs, shaking the old house and stirring up the musty years.

 

I fix Reiner with my sharpest glare. “What the _fuck_. Are you doing. Here.”

 

“Master Ackerman, _please!_ You must listen. I’ve come to warn you! There’s-“

 

“No.” I move closer, muscles tight and silent like a predator. I _feel_ like a predator. The sensation should scare me; the thought of repeating the past should cripple me. It doesn’t. I feel _alive_. “Let _me_ warn _you._ ” I realize that this is the moment that confirms Eren is indeed in this house. Until now, they have only speculated, but we’ve just delivered him. I want to be angry with Hanji for not stopping Eren by force, or saying something sooner. Looking at everyone in the room, I see my anger reflected in their eyes. There isn’t a person in this house that doesn’t know that Eren escaped capture by this man and his master. Each of them is just as angry as I am, and just as ready to pounce. No, I cannot be angry with Han. I am simply angry as this bull of a man before me, who matches my height even kneeling on his knees. “Eren is _not_ property. He _belongs_ to no one. Eren is here because he wants to be, and until he says otherwise, we will do everything in our power to _keep him here._ ” Reiner doesn’t look intimidated, or even phased by our looming presence. He merely looks tired, and wary; possibly irritated that we won’t listen to him.

 

“I’m not here to _take_ him, I am here to _help_ him!” Our skepticism is palpable. Mike’s grip on the man’s shoulder tightens, pressing him down into the floor with a wince. I spot Auruo’s smug smile, and for the first time see the shovel in the corner dotted with dark red splashes of blood. “Please, listen.” His voice sounds genuinely pleading, pulling my eyes back to him, noticing the red around his knee as it begins to stain my carpet. I’m not sure whether I am mad about the carpet or happy about his injury. “The first time we met, I gave you a note. Don’t you remember?” Reiner’s voice is growing harsh and frantic as he attempts to get words out despite the pain.

 

Everyone looks from him to me, questioning. I think back, searching for the memory with no real passion to find it. I remember the conversation. He had seemed convincing in his role of concerned servant looking for his master’s heir. He could easily be playing a role right now. Still, I do recall him handing me a paper. He claimed it to be a description of Eren. I hadn’t even looked at it. I was too angry.

 

“I cannot confirm the existence of such a note.” I state factually. His face falls immediately as he runs out of words.

 

“I was being watched back then… by another servant. Reeves didn’t trust me fully then. I wrote on that paper that I knew what Master was doing, and I wanted to help Eren reach safety. He isn’t safe here, and he never will be. You didn’t listen, and then Reeves almost got to him!”

 

“ _YOU_ almost got to him!” I nearly scream, now too emotional to contain it. Like a scolding adult, my finger points into his face. “ _You_ were there, combing through _my_ house, _my_ room!”

 

The small space of my office goes silent. Annie, Hanji, Mike, Auruo, and a few others are here watching quietly. Looking on to the exchange like two animals in a cage, fighting over their last meal.

 

Reiner takes a moment to gather himself, nodding slightly in agreement. When he finally speaks, it is calm and quiet; the voice of a man who knows he has lost but must try anyway. “I thought that if I could get to him first, then maybe…. I was trying to help him. You have to believe me.”

 

I don’t know what to believe. Not anymore. My heart is aching in my chest. Eren’s loud footsteps on the stairway still echoing in my ears. Reiner’s face at my door just days after Eren had arrived, and Reeve’s face smiling at me in my own ballroom. The things Eren has told me over the months, and the things he’s begun to open up about in the middle of the night when he wakes from a nightmare. The good day we were all having, spoiled.

 

“Lock him up. Anywhere. Take turns guarding him. No less than two of you on him at a time. I’ll deal with this later.”

 

I turn, not giving Reiner or anyone else a second glance. I feel their surprised gazes on me regardless as I leave. I make my own loud, echoing way up the spiral to see Eren. Knowing that he is afraid, and running from his past the way that I had been doing until just recently. The ache in my chest won’t leave until he is happy, I realize. I wonder what this means. Can’t bring myself to dwell on it. I only want the ache to go away. For both of us.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback me! Don't forget to subscribe and bookmark to get notified of updates (so you can feedback me faster~) :D
> 
> I have been challenging myself to draw more so more of my chapters may feature art at the end. I'd love more Fanart, however, if anyone is considering it.


	19. The Artist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren feels the ebb and flow that is the change within him.  
> He decides to face a fear.  
> The prisoner makes a compelling case.

**Chapter Nineteen**

**The Artist**

The night that Reiner came to our house was a new page in my life. So many things had happened that day, leading up to his discovery, that set so many things in motion. Levi was the largest force to be sent forward; tumbling and sprinting down the long hill of impending conflict, his own weight and the push of gravity compelling him ever faster. I received Levi’s purest gifts in those days. One of which, I still wear to this day.

 

-

 

My vision is blurry; either from the pain in my chest, stalling my breath, or tears I don’t wish to acknowledge. My feet, loud in my ears as they stomp up the stairwell. Those are things I am aware of as I run from Reiner, putting as much space between us as I can manage in this confined house. I don’t want to run. I want to stand and be strong, like Master Levi has always been. I always feel safe by his side. That is impossible, however, when he stands in the same space as Reiner.

 

Reiner. The very real, tangible form of memory. He isn’t just a man, but a harbinger. Bringing with him all of the things I have escaped and the visions of my dead friend’s faces; bringing them here into this home that I have come to think of as _safe_. It is sickening. Making my skin crawl and shiver just thinking about this place being invaded by those dark shadows just as it has finally come in to the light. I feel wholly, irrevocably, _irreparably_ responsible for these new corrupt corners of darkness creeping in to our sanctuary.

 

“I’m sorry, everyone.” I sob into Levi’s pillow, the words feeling rough in my throat like gravel. Levi’s clean scent fills my senses as my lungs clamor to draw in breath, but it does nothing to calm me.

 

 _They’ve come for me. Again. Everyone here is in danger. Because of me._ Images of Petra, Krista, Ymir, Hanji- everyone. Images of Levi. All dead around me. Limp forms with open, glossed eyes that accuse me; sentence me to hell for their murders. _If only I never stopped here, that night… I should have kept running. Should have ran until my legs gave out and simply hoped that would have been enough!_

 

Time passes. I don’t know how long it takes for the images to stop, but even after they do, my breath still aches and burns within me. Levi’s pillow is soaked with sweat and tears. Maybe a bit of snot.

 

The realization that I’ve ruined something of his hits me hard in the chest. Pushes me over the precarious perch I stand on; toes digging desperately into the earth to keep me from falling. The ugly wet shapes displaying where my eyes and nose had just been buried in the fluff. My body pitches forward, heavy with gravity over this imaginary cliff as the crumbles of my strength fall alongside me. I am suddenly positive that I am going to die. My chest has never hurt so much. I have never been so out of breath. Or warm. Or cold. Nothing seems normal. I am going to die without Reiner ever touching me.

 

There’s a loud bang as Levi’s door slams shut, and the sounds of hurried steps as he crosses the distance to where I sit clutching my sides atop his bed.

 

“Eren! Eren?” His cold hands cup my cheeks, and his eyes mirror the questions in his calling of my name. I try to make words, feel my mouth move in shapes just inches from his own, but all that comes out are more wheezing gasps. Suddenly I know that I was right- I _am_ dying, I must be. Levi has never looked so mortally wounded, and surely never cradled me in such a desperate way. His fingers are tight over my flesh, keeping me grounded; no longer floating or falling down the ravine of despair but planted firmly against the immovable man before me. “Eren, it’s alright. It’s alright.” My ear is jammed into his heartbeat, his hands now working into my hair to hold me there as he speaks lowly and rhythmically. It feels like hours before I calm enough that he feels he can let go, but he never stops speaking those steady words of reassurance. “It’s alright, I’m here. I’m just going to walk over there for a bit, okay? I’m coming right back. Okay?” I no longer feel like I will die but I do still feel panic when he leaves me alone on the bed- even for just the few moments he promised, then returns immediately. My head is fuzzy and swimming, which he seems to know somehow without my telling him. His strong hand guides my head into his lap. Moments later, I feel a familiar tug over my throat and hear a soft click.

 

I still can’t manage any words even as my breathing calms into quiet gasps; too shaky and scattered to make any appear in my mind. One of my gasps seems to come out as a question, however, and he smiles down at me, fingers in my hair and tickling over my neck.

 

“You’re safe, Eren. I won’t let anything happen to you. To anyone here.” He gives a tug on the beautiful lock, somehow knowing it will help- will reach me. It does. It simply does. My whole body seems to respond, tightening its broken and shaky bits back together into a whole person, slowly. I feel air in my lungs for the first time in ages. I register his soft smile, finally. It’s warm. The warmth of the sun I can sometimes feel when walking by one of the large downstairs windows in the afternoon. “Don’t leave.” His words are small then, fragile on their own. His fingers tickling at the collar like it is just as fragile. “I won’t let you.”

 

Strength returns to my limbs, but I don’t dare move my head from his lap. Instead I smooth the crease out of his brow with one shaking hand, feeling the soft skin over his hard expression. “I’m not going anywhere.” Our hands end up clasped, the room silent. Clouding silver eyes meeting tired green ones. “If I did, I’d take you with me.” I let him hear it, watch him absorb it, and then wait as we both try to figure out what it really is that lies between us. He doesn’t say anything, and I can’t decide which of my thousand thoughts should take prominence, so I pick one at random. “I won’t listen to anything Reiner has to say.” I croak out, cringing that I had to ruin the moment with reminders.

 

“You don’t have to. Let’s rest.” I want to ask questions, to find out what he means. If he sent Reiner away, or locked him up, or…

 

No. It doesn’t matter in this moment. My body is quickly giving in to the exhaustion of emotional turmoil. I don’t want to think, and Levi doesn’t ask me to. Opting instead to tuck me in beneath the sheets and pet my head. For a moment I recall the first night we spent together like this, roles reversed. I sleep, albeit fitfully, reminded that Levi is here for me. _For me._ It isn’t just me, stubborn and foolhardy, crawling back to him like an infatuated puppy night after night. No. Levi wants me here, wants to hold me as well and keep me safe. It is perhaps the true moment I dared believe that our feelings could really be mutual.

 

I wake hours into the night, fingers achingly tight around the collar and cutting in to my breathing room. Levi is not beside me, making the room seem hollow and cold. Lifeless in the dark. I smell the sweat sticking to my skin but can’t do anything about it yet, getting up from the bed and stubbing a toe on a table leg as I attempt to find the candle matches. When I fail at that, I opt to find the door with only a trace of light flickering from beyond it.

 

Annie sits right outside, inky paper crane half-finished, twirling in her fingers. She doesn’t seem to be working on it, and completely misses the door creaking open when I poke my head out. After a moment, I cough pathetically, earning me a scowl as she jumps almost imperceptibly in her seat.

 

“Eren!” A pause, “You should get back to bed.” It sounds defensive rather than suggestive.

 

“Where is Levi?” _Master Levi_ , I realize I didn’t say. She noticed, but doesn’t comment.

 

“He’s downstairs in the guest quarters. With Reiner.”

 

The meaning hits, as intended, and I fix her with a wary look. Before my rest, when my body was wrung tight in nerves of fire, I wanted nothing to do with Reiner. Now, I was thinking clearly. Blaming the sturdy reassurance of the collar around my neck and Levi’s smile still fresh in my memory. Now, I knew I wanted to be there. Levi had made it plain that he didn’t want to be volatile any longer. If there was one way for him to slip back into those ways, it was facing down my tormentors like this. _He may need me._ The thought was all it took. I would face this, because I had Levi. I wasn’t alone, and neither was he.

 

Traveling to the guest quarters meant going all the way down the spiral to the first floor, past the slave quarters that were separated from the rest of the floor. All the way to the front of the house, near the large entryway, was the staircase that led up to a secluded section of the second floor meant for visitors; as rare or nonexistent as they were. There were no entryways from here to the slaves. It was an annoying hike, but necessary to keep everything orderly.

 

Reiner is on the floor, kneeling as he had been hours ago when I first saw him. Levi doesn’t look to me when I enter, his back facing me as he stares down Reiner. The bulky blonde man is intimidating on a normal day, but here in the dark of the night and under interrogation he looks almost fragile. It’s a strange shift of paradigm that makes my stomach clench unhappily. I note that he doesn’t look injured, save for a patch of dried blood on one knee, and silently thank Levi for keeping himself calm. He sees me as I step up behind the master of the house and his eyes are wide, flicking over me, almost confused.

 

Unconsciously my head dips as if that could hide the collar from view, and then I stop myself. Lifting my chin high instead to show the beautiful, hand-picked symbol of my _belonging_.

 

 _I belong here,_ I almost say to him, wanting him to understand. _You can’t take me away; I am chained by forces far stronger than you!_

 

Master doesn’t look away from Reiner. “Eren.” It is a quiet greeting into the otherwise still room. An invitation, almost, to show this man what he faces. Something quite different from his last visit here.

 

“Levi.” I return the even tone, staring into Reiner’s eyes, and step up beside him. Equally, mirrored, two halves of this whole body of hatred directed at the prisoner. His eyes suddenly snap shut, tight. Understanding. I wasn’t wearing the collar hours ago. Reiner only saw a servant boy running away. Now that boy returned, complete and confident, albeit tired.

 

“Why don’t you tell _Eren_ ,” he says my name so carefully- so _beautifully_ , telling Reiner just what is lingering in the small space between us, “what it is you have told the rest of us?” Mike, Auruo, and Erd- the handyman, are still and silent statues in each corner of the room.

 

I can hear Reiner swallow a lump in his throat, his eyes carefully shifting between us before settling on mine, seeming earnest. “Eren, please. I have never been on Reeves’ side. I have been trying to gain his _trust_. I never wanted to hurt you, or let him get to you. You need to leave. If you don’t want to leave Master Ackerman, then go together! Just get out!”

 

 _‘If I did, I’d take you with me.’_ My romanticized promise from just hours ago already coming back to the forefront of my mind. My gaze twitches reflexively to Levi, who doesn’t flinch at anything Reiner has said. He sounds desperate and I think for a moment that he must be telling the truth. I want to believe it, if only because I have never seen the usually calm, stoic Reiner look so utterly emotional over anything.

 

“Why?” I hear myself asking him before I meant to say anything. I had wanted to pin him with the silent treatment a while longer.

 

“Because Reeves has been biding his time, and now he’s-“

 

“No.” Levi says it for me, understanding. Glancing at me as if to say _I am here, don’t forget._ “Not that. Why are you helping him? Why spend all of this time cozying up to Reeves just to throw it away for Eren?”

 

A shadow of something ominous passes deep under Reiner’s skin. His eyes deepen into darkness, lips turning inwards in scowl, the entire bulk of his chest retreating inwards as he loses the air from his lungs. “He… took someone from me. He murdered someone I loved. _Love_.” He corrects himself in the way one does when they still feel the loss fresh in their bones, full of denial and dreams of everlasting happiness. “I will make Reeves pay. I could have helped you pin him down, if you had just read that damned _note!_ ” He was beginning to look ragged, mind spinning. “It’s too late now. I don’t know the details. He doesn’t discuss it with anyone but this man who visits from the Underground. But I overheard him, just a night ago. He said it’s almost time to take you down, Master Ackerman. He said your entire name will fall, this house with it, so that no one will be able to prove what he’s done. Whatever he plans to do, if you survive it, you will have no credit to your name. No voice.”

 

“How long have you been working for Reeves?” Levi asks, the sharp edge to his voice diminishing. Either Reiner is a marvelous actor, or he is telling the truth. Each pair of eyes seems to be looking at the giant man kneeling in the center of it, waiting.

 

“Two… years….” I feel myself answer for him. Pieces, construed and warped, suddenly reshaping and falling in to place. “Right around the time that…” I hesitate, unbelieving. _Reiner arrived just after the seventeenth birthday of-_

 

“Don’t,” Reiner stopped me, mid-thought. “Please, don’t.” He was broken. I believed him, even if Levi still seemed skeptical.

 

“Two years, you’ve spent cuddling up to a horrible, disgusting man in the hopes of finding one chance to bring him down?” Levi is in his face now, inches away, venom lost but not forgotten. “Eren told me what happened to the others… why didn’t you help _them_?” The accusation was so quiet, likely meant for only the two of them to hear, but no one else was making a sound and so the room may as well have been an amplifier.

 

“I tried…” It was weak. Reiner’s eyes were now pointed at the floor, glued there as his back shook with the effort of emotion.

 

“Master,” Annie’s voice cuts through the moment like a sharp blade; matching her sharp features. She’d snuck in while we had all been so distracted with our prisoner. “I think you should see this,” She says, handing over the half-finished, crumply paper crane.

 

As Levi gently plucks it from her palm I can see it, noting its worn edges that seem to have existed before she ever got her hands on it. The scrawl over its paper wings was not printed text as her arts usually were, but hand-written. This crane was not born of an old book or newspaper. This crane was Reiner’s note.

 

“Master, it was never my intention to hide it. I’ve always collected the usable papers from the bins- just a hobby to keep me busy; I didn’t read what was on it. I just knew that it wasn’t your writing, so it likely wasn’t business work. I thought it would make a nice piece.” Her frame was solid, unmoving as she ever seemed and her expression forever one of disinterest. If Annie hadn’t worked here for years, it would have been suspect.

 

With lithe fingers, the crane comes open in Levi’s hands, splayed out to confirm Reiner’s claims. At least, the ones about the note. I could see, looking to the others, that they still aren’t so sure this wasn’t somehow planned from that first visit. Levi’s expression says nothing as he crumples the paper into a tight ball.

 

“Keep him under watch. I will return in a few hours.” The master of the house leaves, taking Annie and myself with him. Auruo brings his small stool out to the hall to sit by the door, closing it. Everything felt so final then, so muted. Paused. Reiner didn’t get a second glance, or a goodbye. He was left wondering his fate while his guards were left wondering about his innocence.

 

Me, I felt hollow. Somehow, the revelation that Reiner wasn’t the evil servant I’d always assumed him to be did not make me feel better. I didn’t feel very much of anything outside of the looming dread. If Reiner was telling the truth about the note, then his other claims could easily be true. Reeves would be on his way here to bring this house down in ruin. I should have felt the panic rising up in me again, like bile. But really, all I could feel was Levi’s warmth emanating from a step in front of me and the tight leather over my throat that said this was _my_ house, as well. And I would not lose another home to that man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short. My bad!  
> The next chapter should be much longer, and NSFW~  
> Look forward to it.
> 
>  
> 
> P-FACKIN-S  
> If you haven't read the Captive Prince trilogy by C. S. Pacat then go fucking do that now because there is NO EXCUSE you can find it online and it is amazing.  
> I just finished the third book today which put me in a super-duper writing mood so here I am, with an early chapter and a one-shot on the way. Damn.


	20. The Hesitant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi and Eren are not themselves. Haven't been themselves since stumbling into one another.  
> They only know themselves when they come together.

**Chapter Twenty**

**The Hesitant**

 

Weeks passed without word from Reiner, with no sign of Reeves’ fatal move the man claimed was incoming. After that long night of interrogation I had been exhausted and irritable, spent the remainder of the morning hours tossing in bed with little sleep. Eren was much the same. When we returned in the morning to the room that housed Reiner, I was at the end of any patience. Annie’s unfinished paper art had proven his claims to be true. Eren also looked at Reiner with an unreadable expression, and I gleaned from his manner that he believed the man, perhaps even knew who Reiner had lost; but I refused to pry. And so we settled on an agreement after hours of annoying conversation where Reiner insisted that if he didn’t return that day, Reeves would suspect him. Reluctantly, we allowed him to return under the condition he maintain contact. I made it clear that neither Eren nor I had any intention of running or hiding. That didn’t sit well with the burly blonde, but he agreed to send word often and relay any further details. I didn’t mention to anyone the man I planned to hire to watch over the Reeves estate, Reiner included.

 

The problem was that Reeves had said _soon_ , but it had already been a month with no unusual movement according to Reiner’s reports. There had been no more suspicious meetings or letters between Reeves and any new strangers.

 

Eren was a mess. He was anxious at best, and unresponsive at worst. I would catch him pacing the halls daily, and his infernal stuttering had made a comeback despite the relative calm of the household. Even at dinner, which had become a lively affair, Eren would only eat the minimal amount he could stand and play with the rest lazily until we retired for bed. I was exhausted with worry; an emotion so foreign in my body I literally felt ill at times. How could I help Eren while keeping myself in line? I had to stay sharp. Constantly on high alert. Strung tight. I didn’t even honestly know what I would do when Reeves made his move. I didn’t even know what that move _was_.

 

After that entire ordeal, I wasn’t much better off than Eren. I felt that pull again. That deep, sickening itch inside that said _things are going wrong, fix it, control it_. I felt that need like I felt my own heartbeat; steady and strong with the pull to give orders and receive submission.

 

I tamped it down instead with extra servings of calming teas and long nights huddled into Eren’s chest like a child. I _felt_ childish. Enslaved by my emotions and thinking only _me, me, me._ Usually, Eren would know somehow. He would see it in me and present himself like a beautiful gift to subdue me. But things were quite different now. Eren wasn’t just some tool used to tame a beast, he was a man. A grown person, with his own complex emotions that he couldn’t contain behind his big eyes and dreams of the world outside the walls of this house he’d only mentioned in late-night whispers. I couldn’t ask Eren to bend over and receive my paddle. I didn’t want to. I wanted Eren to want it, and to speak it, the way he had that last time. He didn’t. It seemed he was too lost in his own terrors to comfort my rages. Sadly, I hadn’t a clue how to help him either. We were stuck.

 

We hadn’t had any physical affairs since before Reiner’s unexpected visit. Eren and I now spent almost every night together in my chamber, waking together and retiring together each morning and evening. The staff had become aware of us slowly, startlingly, until it seemed every person on the property had glue between their eyes and us; never looking away when we came near. I felt like a spectacle. A small part of me missed the days when they were too afraid to look at me, let alone smile at me! In the end, I accepted that they all knew what kind of relationship we had. That, coupled with our anxiety over Reeves and the general changes of the household had kept us from getting physical at all. I wasn’t even sure Eren wanted that any longer, and now that we were treating one another as equals, I couldn’t just demand it. I didn’t _want_ to just demand it, but I could tell that something needed to happen.

 

In those days as Master and Slave, Eren and I had gotten through all of our emotional turmoil together. Even if it was unintentional, the immediate calm, clear-headedness that washed over the both of us after a romp was undeniable. I needed that feeling. _We_ needed it. It was the only way we knew how to clear the air. That became apparent every time we attempted to talk things over; neither knowing what to say or how to act until we lost the flow of conversation and went to sleep in heavy silences.

 

That was the train of thought that brought me here, staring Eren down as he gets comfortable in my usual chair, long spools of rope hanging through my fingers.

 

“I was thinking… we could both use a bit of a… respite.” His eyes are studying the ropes with what I hope is excitement. There’s a muted fire in the gaze. Interest, or perhaps curiosity. “Do you agree, Eren?”

 

His mouth must be dry, as he struggles to swallow before speaking. I watch his gaze flick from the ropes to my face, never really meeting my eyes until he’s made up his mind. When he finally does, looking deep into me like he sees it all, he is all determination and longing. “Yes, Master.”

 

That is how the scene begins.

 

Eren wastes no time stripping down until he wears only his collar; taken off only when I force him to for the sake of cleaning it. I smile just slightly at how much he enjoys the gift. He sits back into the chair and I hike his knees up so his feet rest on the seat, and place his arms over the armrests. As I begin tying him, however, my ideas shift, and after I’ve secured his legs up and spread apart, welcoming, I raise the arms up and behind his head. I tie the wrists and loop the rope under the chair, bringing it around back to his ankle ties artfully. When I stand back to admire the work, it is almost too much. Eren is glorious. I tell him so.

 

“You’re so perfect, Eren. I love the way these ropes look on you. You’re all spread out over my favorite chair. I’ll think of this, every time I sit there. Isn’t that wonderful?” My mood is already improving, nearly jovial, but I don’t give him time to contemplate a response. It wasn’t meant to get an answer. I trace a thumb over his bottom lip, urging the soft entrance open, and carefully insert the metal ring gag I’d concealed in a pocket. His eyes go wide, searching my own and eventually settling on excitement again. We’ve never used this, but I have the feeling Eren understands its purpose. The leather straps hold it tight, and now his mouth is held open very much like his legs. “Be good, and you’ll get a reward. If you want me to stop, hum a tune. Anything will do.” His head nods, as it’s the only movement he can manage.

 

It doesn’t take long for him to get hard. Somewhere between the ring gag and the part where I stripped myself naked in front of him. I almost always leave some clothing on; just another layer of armor, or a way to separate man from animal. But Eren is not an animal, or a slave, or a tool, I constantly tell myself. He is a man. A very alluring man who is very aroused by the sight of my own nakedness. And who am I to deny him that now? My own hard cock points right at him, and I can’t find any shame. Eren is begging for something to happen, staring at me desperately and making lewd sounds from around the gag, hips thrusting forward as best they can although no friction will ever find his erection in this pose.

 

There is a tray on the small tea table, holding two cups, a sugar bowl, and a bit of honey. I dip two fingers into the jar, coating them and watching pointedly as the sticky liquid trails from jar to hand. Eren is watching as well, looking positively elated.

 

My fingers slide into the wet warmth of his mouth too easily, almost. The ring gag leaves his entry wide, tongue twitching openly for all to see and saliva pooling around those pink lips. That very tongue laps hungrily at me, almost uselessly as the sweet fluid merely leaves my fingers to trail down his chin. I massage at the muscle momentarily before retracting my hand suddenly, causing Eren to whine at the abrupt absence.

 

“I’ve never liked honey in my tea, you know. Hanji puts it on the tray for you. I simply thought I’d give you a taste, since he went through the trouble.” His eyebrows wrinkle and his eyes sharpen into a glare that I find completely attractive. The mess from his mouth now drips down to his neck and chest. I consider for a moment, at what point I decided I liked filth so long as it was Eren’s. Seeing him covered in his own saliva, looking desperate and wrecked and yet still begging for more with twitching tongue. It was intoxicating.

 

My soiled hand trails down his chest, through the mess, and traces the small lines of his flat stomach. His erection reaches for me, reacting to every small move I make in its direction, and finally I concede to stoke at it, coating it in sweet filth.

 

I try not to think about Kenny. I’ve done quite a good job of it, in recent months. At some point my mind began to wander to Eren, and what it would be like to please him. _Really_ please him. Put my all into it and somehow communicate that I want him to enjoy what we do together. That it isn’t just about me. In this moment, with Eren tied up and unable to speak, it feels easier. Tightening my grip on his cock and pumping it in a slow rhythm almost comes naturally. I only have to bite back the memories of long, long ago when I flick my tongue over his slit. Despite the uncomfortable moment I experience, Eren’s loud moan keeps me tethered to the _now_. He’s practically screaming through the metal ring and I’ve hardly done a thing.

 

I situate myself onto my knees as comfortably as I can and prepare to do something I haven’t done since those years of abuse. The first time I have ever _wanted_ to do it. Eren’s hands are tied and cannot yank at my hair. He cannot hit me, or shove me from the room after covering me in filth. His mouth is unable to curse at me, call me names, or spit on me. No. Eren wouldn’t.

 

With resolve I didn’t mean to muster when this night began, I wrap my mouth around him. It seems easier than I remember to open up my throat and let it inside. But then, I’m much older now. I take him deeply, over and over, letting the head hit the back of my throat while my hands stoke at his thighs and the tightening sac where they meet. His breathing around the gag is all breathy air until it builds into a crescendo of pure pleasurable moans, and I know he is close. His whole body strains against the ropes; the chair beneath him groaning with the force of him. I have to brace for it; remind myself this is _Eren,_ and I want to please him. Want to taste him. Want to know what he likes. And I’ve never felt that before; never given to anyone before because no one ever really gave to me. Until Eren.

 

 

I hear a moan vaguely resembling my name before he comes. A long, drawn-out orgasm that I milk with patience and perfect self-control, tasting all of his salty, bitter seed. When I pull back, somehow, even more leaks out to drip over the head. I look at it, wondering. Awestruck. I’d done it. My own chest was heaving with the effort, and pride was swelling into it, replacing the air. _I did it_.

 

I have to gather myself into coherence when the pain of my own erection stabs through me. Eren meets my eyes, and the look in them is mystifying. He knew. Somehow, I knew that he knew. Eren always understood, from the day he found out about my uncle. If it was possible, he’d be wearing a smile, but instead his cheeks could only twitch around the ring. Without meaning to, I was smiling back.

 

“Did you like that, Eren?” His head nods with violent enthusiasm, which I have to stop before it makes me dizzy. My fingers are again in his mouth, forcing him to taste the sweet honey and bitter come.

 

I massage at his tongue and press into the back of his throat, stretching it out like I would his lower entrance, watching his face twist in concentration as he tries not to cough or gag. It’s erotic, being inside him like this. Had Reeves ever done something like this? Had I found a way to enter Eren that was completely new to us both? Fingering the back of his throat surely wasn’t pleasurable in a physical way, but my mental facilities were on fire. Despite the disgusting concoction of fluids now flowing from his mouth and down his body, my eyes were drawn to those lips. How many nights had we spent huddled close, lips merely inches apart, and yet never had they even brushed together? I wanted to. I didn’t like to admit it. It was a new, terrifying thing for me. But now, looking at Eren, I couldn’t help but finally realize what I wanted. I wanted all of him. I wanted Eren in every way I could get him; in as many new ways as I could find. Different from what Kenny had done to me. Different from what Reeves had done to him. We were going to find our own ways to be together without their shadows and curses following us.

 

My free hand reaches back to release his hands, giving him a way to signal me if he grows uncomfortable, but he seems to know I don’t want them to move as he leaves them behind his head. His eyes are already watching my cock, leaking and aching, when I bring it to his open mouth and drive it in.

 

The feeling is… indescribable. Not because he’s sucking me off; we’d done that many times. But because this was _us._ Eren and I were… new. Not Master and Slave. Man and man. Maybe a couple. I didn’t really know what a couple _was_ , in most senses. I just knew we were together, of our own wills and desires and he wanted these encounters as much as I did, and we wanted these encounters just as much as we wanted quiet meals together and late night hugs and reading the same books so we could talk about them over tea. Suddenly, Eren and I were… _more_. I knew it had happened, at some point. We’d been _more_ for a while. But this was when I knew it best, somehow. It was stupid. I was almost angry with myself for having some deep revelation while having my cock sucked.

 

I gave up the train of thought, exhausted with thinking. I wanted to feel. So I lost myself in the wet, sloppy heat of his mouth. Buried my hands in his hair and urged myself deeper. I let out curses, wild and begging, decorated with his name. The name I knew he loved to hear me say, because it was the one possession a slave was allotted, and yet Reeves had kept even that from him.

 

“ _Fuck, Eren. Yes. Fuck! So good, Eren! Ah- yeah!”_

 

I was lost. Lost to pleasure in a way I had never been. I truly let myself be free. I’d gotten on my knees and tasted another man as I’d sworn I never would again. I’d _liked_ it, wanted to do it again. Who cares if I had to tie him up to do it? Maybe one day, I wouldn’t have to. Now, Eren was returning the favor. Not because of any obligation, or because I needed to be tamed like a monster. Because I was a man, utterly and completely lost in his presence. _Wanting_ , and lustful, and amorous. I don’t remember ever being so… vocal. I spoke plenty during sex, but rarely did I let anyone hear me _moan_. It felt whorish; like the maids who used to moan loudly, false and deceptive so my uncle would think they liked it, and he wouldn’t hurt them.

 

I let Eren hear me gasp out the ecstasy, loudly, with honesty and promise.

 

“Eren, I-… oh gods, Eren, I’m…” His corresponding moan of satisfaction is sending vibrations down my length, and then I am coming. Spilling everything down into the depths of him. What doesn't make it down tumbles out over his filthy chin, and when I retracte myself from him he struggles to lick it up, hungry.

 

I take a moment to collect myself. Gasping for breath, vision swimming, sweaty and satisfied. When I am able to move without faltering, I release the gag and begin undoing the ropes. Eren’s hands come down to help me, but he doesn’t say anything. Somehow, it feels we don’t need to. His green eyes are looking into mine, elated and mostly dark pupils. He understands. Like always.

 

We clean up together. As equals, I note quietly and proudly to myself. I clean up the gag while he cleans the ropes and hangs them to dry. Then, I wipe down his mouth with a soft cloth, trailing it over his lips just to watch them move beneath it. Trying to ignore how my own lips are just inches away, our breath mingling. My hand travels to his chest, wiping away the honey, and our eyes lock. For a moment my heart stops, breath caught painfully. Eren is looking from my eyes to my lips with aching softness. Longing, and lust, and something else I didn’t want to think about yet. I can’t move, paralyzed in that gaze, and when his head dips slowly towards mine I can only think, frozen in place, _Gods, our mouths are filthy!_ And I curse myself for thinking of that at a time like this, when maybe Eren will do what I have been too afraid to do. Am still too afraid to do, I realize, noting again my inability to move.

 

His nose brushes against mine, as soft as a whisper and so intimate that my heart hurts in my chest. A huge vice wrapped around me, squeezing all of my breath and blood and worry away. I wait for the tingle of lips on mine, but it never comes. Eren pulls away at just that, smiling the faintest little smile I’ve ever seen on him, and blushing bright red despite everything we’d just done in the bedroom. His thumb brushes my cheek, and I think I hear a small laugh, but he hides it in the sink as he begins to brush his teeth.

 

I turn to do the same, released from the spell placed over me by this confusing man, only to see my own reflection in the mirror. It stops me in my tracks all over again. Because I see it. I see what almost had Eren kissing me, and it startles me so completely.

 

My cheeks are pink, pupils blown wide. There’s a light glistening over my skin, and it’s almost like I’m glowing. I’m tracing over my lips before I can stop myself; still so plump and flush from sucking Eren’s cock minutes ago. The black strands of my hair are uncharacteristically disheveled. Suddenly, I feel…

 

“Beautiful.” Eren’s voice is quiet, tentative. I can tell he’s holding back more when our eyes meet in the reflection, but allowed himself that one word. I can’t respond. My eyes simply drift back to the reflection in the mirror, gawking at how _me,_ an Ackerman- a hated, tragic man, could suddenly look so much more than ordinary.

 

After we’ve settled back into bed, I take my time massaging his rope-battered skin. I’d always massaged out the rope marks before, never quite sure why. A part of me simply didn’t want to scar him, I think, mind wandering to the brand Eren wears in such a sensitive place. Eren falls to sleep immediately, and I’m grateful to have helped him relax in some way. Myself, however, I cannot sleep. Suddenly things are falling into place, as something always seemed to when Eren and I slipped into a scene.

 

I wouldn’t sit idle and await Reeves. _We_ wouldn’t. I knew it when I was down on my knees, pleasing him. Knew it when he stopped my heart with an almost-kiss that I wanted as much as I feared. That I wouldn’t lose him. I wouldn’t let anything split us or this household apart. Eren and I were going to fight, and win. I had always thought it, in the back of my mind, even when wasting the last month. But now, I had a plan.

 

The next day Eren spent his time with the girls. They didn’t need lessons any longer, as they had mostly mastered all he could teach them. Instead I think he simply enjoyed their company. After a long discussion with Hanji, I sent a messenger off. First to Reiner and then on to the big capital city down past the miles of pastures and enormous lakes. I knew it would be days before I heard back from the latter, and I could only hope Reeves waited long enough. He had his pawns. Now I would have mine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've officially mapped out the remainder of this story. Don't hate me!  
> There are five chapters left.  
> I don't know if that seems sudden, or like a lot, or what. I'm not good with plot things.  
> As I've said, this story was never meant to be so long, and so I am nervous about writing the finale. I hope you will still enjoy.  
> The smut here may not be very good, or at least I worry so, because it was more "character progression smut" than "gettin' you hot and bothered smut", but I hope I managed both?? <3  
> The art for this one is a WIP (work in progress), but I hope to finish it and put it up with the next chapter completed :)
> 
> FEEDBACK ME I AM STARVING


	21. The Diligent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ackerman Manor is thrown into chaos, and preparations for war are well underway.

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**The Diligent**

I’m scrubbing muddy boot prints off of the foyer floorboards when the bell sounds again.

 

“Eren,” I hear Levi’s cool voice call to me from his office.

 

“I know, I got it!” I shout, trying to hide my annoyance, but I know it shows through. This is the fourth visitor today, and probably the tenth so far this week, and it’s setting my nerves ablaze all over again. To make matters worse, Levi has refused any more sessions with me to help ease the dread; instead spending the nights staring over long, secretive letters and writing his own secretive replies. I know he’s exhausted, and just as worried. I can’t find it in me to complain to him.

 

The door swings open to reveal a familiar face; the first all week. “Eren.” Jean’s long, horse-like face takes up my vision briefly before he shoulders past me, making room for the fat noble man behind him to enter the house. Before closing the door, I catch Auruo’s eye as he searches through the carriage for anything suspicious.

 

“Jean.” I sneer, rubbing the bruise I already feel forming on my arm. I quickly divert my attention away from him, pretending he doesn’t exist, which only serves to deepen the ugly scowl on his face. “Master Levi is in his office, sir, and requested I escort you there to him.” I bow to the man, extending a hand towards the end of the hall. As he removes his coat, he doesn’t hide his intense gaze; still sizing me up and appraising my worth, all these months later.

 

“You’ve grown into quite the young man! Guess I can’t call you boy anymore, eh?” I hang his coat, feeling a cold sweat forming over my back where his eyes are glued. I turn back to him just in time to catch a small shrug of the shoulders. “Take me to him.”

 

Their meeting takes an hour. This time, Jean stays inside while I tend to things around the house. In the past few days I have welcomed messenger after messenger, carrying large parcels and rolled parchments to Levi with care. Sometimes they’d only dip their mouths to his ear, utter a bit I could never make out, and leave as if they’d never entered. Local merchants, by the state of their carts and carriages, would come in looking nervous and confused only to leave minutes later looking grim. Now, like this man today, Levi’s old and few acquaintances were showing up to take their turn with him.

 

It was chaos. The Ackerman estate rarely summoned visitors, and never so many unless there was a formal event happening. The staff of the house was often hidden indoors just as much as the Master himself, save for the few who tended to the land and the manor’s repairs. Most of the staff spent the days outside now, attempting to look hard at work on chores while patrolling for anything menacing. Those who stayed indoors, like me, were left pulling double-time in the kitchens to keep everyone fed. The cleaning, much to Levi’s upset, had been lowered down the priority list. I only scrubbed the mud from the floor in the hall so that each new arriving aristocrat would be welcomed to a beautiful home. Luckily, they only got to see the large foyer and the hall leading them into Levi’s office. In the midst of the productivity, I’m beginning to feel useless.

 

Jean catches up to me as they’re leaving.

 

“Eren!” He jogs up to my side just as I finish arranging the coat closet back into order.

 

“Yes?” I try to sound polite and formal, but it may come off a bit annoyed. Jean just had one of those serious faces that always made me think he was going to be an asshole.

 

“Listen, I… Master Ackerman didn’t give us all of the details. But… it’s obvious something serious is going on. My Master was less than pleasant, being the kind of man he is but…” He looks nervous, his eyes not really meeting mine. “If there’s anything I can do… even as a simple servant, just send me a letter, alright? My Master… I’m only hanging around until I can save enough money, then I’m out. I don’t agree with him just because I work for him.”

 

He doesn’t give me any time to respond; hurrying after his Master down the long path and opening the carriage door even as he gasps for breath.

 

I think it’s amazing that Jean had managed to pick up on things, and even more amazing he’d wanted to side with us despite his terrible Master. I guess I can start liking him, if only a little. Somehow though, I feel guilty.

 

This entire ordeal was only happening because of me. Reeves was trying hard to bring us all down simply because I chose this house as my safe-haven. And here I was, cleaning muddy floors, answering the door, and occasionally peeling potatoes. No matter how often I hinted to Levi that I’d like to be in on the big secret plan- because that’s clearly what was happening here, Levi preparing for war- he simply wouldn’t allow it. Wouldn’t even hear it.

 

That night, after the fat man and Jean had long gone and all other contacts had seized for the day, I finally push Levi into speaking with me about it.

 

“I’m gathering intel, Eren. And allies.”

 

“Allies?”

 

“Yes. I need to know who will be around if Reeves succeeds in bringing me or my business down. If I have a good foundation of allies beneath me, then I can rebuild.”

 

“I thought you were trying to _stop_ Reeves!” I don’t like the idea that he was simply planning a rebirth all this time, rather than a win, but I also sense he’s not telling me everything.

 

“I am. That’s where the intel comes in.” He’s taken to changing his own clothing at the end of the day, but tonight I can’t fight the twitching of my fingers that ache to touch him. I help him out of his suit and button-down, but he doesn’t let me reach for the pants. Ignoring my pout, he continues. “I am gathering my own data on Reeves while he gathers what he will on me. Reiner seems to believe Reeves is going to try and get me arrested. As much as I’d like to believe I adhere to the law… there is one crime I will never escape.”

 

A cold shudder traces my spine, and I am struck with fear. What if Reeves really does take Levi away from me? What if he takes _me_? I’d be dead within days.

 

“I know you want to help, Eren, but there honestly isn’t anything you can do for me at this point in regards to all of that. All I can do is wait for his move and hope whatever I can come up with until then will suffice.”

 

_That isn’t the least bit reassuring, Levi!!_ I scream to myself, tugging at a lock of hair while he slips into a loose pair of slacks for sleeping in.

 

“I have something else for you to do. Something that has waited long enough, and I am now too preoccupied to do. I think you are best suited for it. It has to be done in the event that I am… in the event that I leave.” Levi seems calm and collected despite the very real threat that he could be sent to prison any day; thinking only of the household and his business and the people he’d leave behind. “Among the flood of packages and paperwork I have received this week, many of them have been family registers.” Now fully prepared for bed, we sit down to one last cup of tea.

 

“I don’t believe I follow you, Levi. Reeves has family?”

 

“Not Reeves. The girls.” He pours honey into my drink before stirring it a few times, looking tender and sweet in the warm candlelight. I could almost forget this conversation entirely and imagine some romantic talk of dates and anniversaries, like a normal couple. Thinking of the girls, however, I feel cold. If anything happens to Levi, the staff can find new jobs. But the girls? They’d be auctioned off by the Capital and end up slaves to some scumbag again. “I’ve collected what I could for their families, as well as written up a letter of recommendation for each of them should they choose to try and work. You’ll find information on business affiliates who’ve agreed to take in a girl or two for my sake. They are all good people whom I trust.”

 

I’ve already drained my tea, but his remains mostly untouched, growing cold. “What am I doing with this information?”

 

“You, Eren, who’s come to know those girls the best… you will help them find their new homes. Of course, anyone who wishes to remain here, can do so. We will work on getting them to their chosen places when the whole mess with Reeves is over.”

 

I swallow hard, my mouth already dry. “And… if you aren’t here… when it’s over?”

 

“Then you’ll do it, Eren. You and Hanji will inherit the manor, and the business.”

 

I feel dizzy, and sick, and sad. Mostly, my chest aches.

 

The next morning, we rise early. Levi pulls me into his office and gestures to the large closet there, urging me to open the doors and retrieve the documents. I’m not expecting so much, and he chuckles when my eyes go wide. Two full boxes and an armful of folders, all overflowing with their own pages. I struggle to balance it all in a stack as I make my way to the second floor.

 

The long strip of glass that once deprived the girls of privacy now shows only a large sheet of dark cloth. I knock on the door before opening it, almost dropping a box atop my toes as I fight the key to turn.

 

Some of them seem upset when they hear why I’ve come, but it doesn’t take me long to see that they are simply afraid.

 

Afraid of the news these papers they only recently learned to read will carry. Some of their families likely won’t want them back, or have passed on, or some other version of their nightmares. I start instead with the girls who wish to stay within the house and work with us, to which only a few come forth.

 

Christa and Ymir both decide to stay. Resolutely and forcefully, they take the folders containing their family information and toss them at the door, scattering the pages over the floor. They don’t look at any of them as they return to their shared cot to chat quietly; half listening to the rest of the proceedings and half ignoring it.

 

Nifa won’t even touch her folder when I try to hand it to her. I throw it at the door myself, and she laughs warmly. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen her smile. I hear giggles from a few of the others as well, but the mood won’t lighten so easily.

 

Petra looks nervous when we get around to her.

 

“A part of me really doesn’t want to leave… I really love you all. And you, Eren. You’ve done so much for us. I’m so grateful…” She sighs, glancing at the open folder in her hands. “My family… couldn’t be found. They must have picked up their things and left… I can’t return to a family that can’t be found. I guess… I’d like to take a job somewhere. I want to see more than just this house, you now?”

 

I did know. We all did; nodding our heads and giving her gentle nudges. Letting her know it’s alright not to stay. There is pain here for her, and we don’t expect that to go away. I shuffle through the box of Levi’s business affiliates, skimming the lines that tell me what places deal in what affairs and what they want out of an employee.

 

The leatherworker has an opening for an apprentice, which makes me laugh and shudder at the same time. I’m certain it’s the man who made my collar and I can’t imagine Petra would set foot in his shop, so I move on. There’s a small clinic in need of a stand-in nurse, and a patisserie looking for capable hands in the kitchens. I smile, thinking they both seem perfect for her, and let her choose. After looking them over thoughtfully, she hands me back the clinic folder and hugs the baking one to her chest with a blush.

 

Some of the girls did elect to return to their families, in the end. One of them being the petite farm-girl that usually never spoke. Even after all of our lessons I only now knew her name thanks to the file in front of me.

 

“Mina, are you sure?” I don’t want to say it aloud and remind everyone, but I am sure no one has forgotten. Mina’s parents sold her and her sisters in the hopes they would live better lives. Returning to them would only be telling them the heartbreak had been for nothing.

 

“I’m sure, Eren, thank you. I’d like to try to find a way to help the family, instead of running. Maybe I can somehow find my sisters, as well…”

 

It aches to think about Mina never reuniting with her sisters. Her sisters never seeing their family again. I decide to do what I can, which isn’t much.

 

“Here, take this with you when you go.” I hand her a folder I’d set aside a while ago. It contains the few jobs Levi could find outside of our own town, a few of which were miles to the West. Maybe they were close enough to Mina’s village. It was the only thing I had within my power to do.

 

After everyone has sorted out their futures, something no slave could normally dream of, things go quiet. It’s a peaceable quiet. The kind of calm where no one feels the need to say anything; content to be together while thinking your own private things. I know they’re wondering what life will have in store for them. Perhaps even fearing the unknown. I remember sitting in Reeves’ basement, alone as the last survivor, just listening to my heartbeat in the cold night. I knew what I was going to do. Went over it a thousand times in my head before I ever lifted a finger. Thought about it each and every time I had to look at Reeves, or smell his awful stench, or…

 

The next time Reiner came to fetch me in the night for a bath- the only time Reeves would allow me to bathe, outside and cold where he couldn’t see me- I slapped the bucket of icy water over his wide head and ran for it into the night.

 

That was the scariest moment. The moment right before I went for it. The moment where I had to tell myself _you’re strong enough to win this fight_ , and then convince myself it was true.

 

But once I finally lifted a finger, I was lifting a bucket. Then, my feet. Then, my spirits.

 

“You guys are strong enough.” I’m saying it before I can stop myself. It’s that harsh sort of whisper that comes out of the quiet like sharp edges in your ear. “You’ll all do well.”

 

They seem good with that, to my relief. I receive so many hugs and smiles and wipe so many tears, and then I cry some of my own as I look at them all. It feels bittersweet. For a short while, they were my students. Suddenly, it was like they’re graduating, despite that none of us had ever gone to school.

 

I’m so happy that Levi gave me this job, I realize. At first I had been reluctant; certain he was only trying to get me out of his way even when he said he thought I was suited for it. I should never have doubted him. This job was mine, and mine alone. The tears falling aren’t just for the girls who are leaving. They are happy, for all of us staying. For everyone who got to see Levi from now on- because, despite everything, I know Levi will stay with us. He has to.

 

That night, I return to bed even later than Levi, dropping into the soft mattress beside him after an inadequate bath.

 

“Hnnnph…” Levi stirs, grasping a lazy hand towards me. It flops across the sheets until it makes contact, gripping my arm and pulling me in.

 

“Good night, Levi.” I smile at him but only receive a small squeeze on my arm in reply. It takes a while still for me to sleep, mind full of each girl and what her past must have held. What her future would promise.

 

The next day, as if a switch had been flipped, Levi is calm and so is the house. Everyone has resumed their usual jobs and routines, and we take in no visitors, packages, or messages. It’s as if nothing unusual has been happening at all, and we’ve not stirred a bit in months.

 

Despite everyone’s calm demeanor, I can’t shake the uneasy feeling of being watched any time I pass a window; no matter how tightly I draw the shades.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried really hard to have some art for you guys this chapter, but it just wasn't happening.
> 
> I don't feel like this chapter had a lot happening in it, but that's likely because next chapter will! Look forward to it~
> 
> Feedback me, my loves!


	22. The Exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year has passed and the boy has become a man. Now, with the help of new friendships, he will find peace.

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**The Exposed**

_It’s nearly fall, again…_ I think to myself as I glance through my office window; ignoring the eyes I feel on me. _It’s nearly been a year since this all began… so much has changed._

 

“Master Ackerman, Sir?” The young, uncertain voice interrupts my reverie.

 

“Continue.”

 

“Right, yes…” He clears something from his throat and shuffles on his feet, obviously nervous about his first job as a reconnaissance man – a spy. “Rei-… the subject has shown no signs of movement that may differ from the information he’s given you. He tends to his usual duties when under the eyes of his coworkers and master, but I’ve witnessed him sneaking in and out of the house when given the chance. Last week, I followed him into the forest where he proceeded to dig a hole and hide something I could not see in the dark. Unfortunately, when daylight came, I was unable to find the burial spot.” I nod my head along, not paying complete attention to the report on Reiner. I don’t really expect to find him betraying me. The spy has already confirmed that Reiner’s old love did indeed end up in Reeves’ care a few years ago. But of course, there’s no word or evidence as to what happened to him since.

 

“I think it would be safe to conclude that he is not acting against you, Master Ackerman, but his own Master. If you’d like, I can try again to obtain the hidden item, or items, he left in the forest.”

 

“I don’t think we need to-“ I start to reply but am cut short as a knock sounds at my office door.

 

“Master,” Hanji’s muffled voice comes through the door, “Reiner has arrived and demands to see you immediately. He looks rather… rough.”

 

The door begins to open and I spot Hanji’s glasses and dark hair with Reiner’s bulky frame immediately behind. Again, we are interrupted, as a loud bang sounds from the front door, accompanied by the sounds of shattering glass. The spy and I make eye contact, and he is already moving to the office door and into the hall. I see Hanji and Reiner’s eyes go wide as they look towards the front door to the manor, wide and uncertain as they witness something outside of my vision and I race to the hall myself.

 

It is crowded already with the staff, coming to see who has broken into our home in the bright of day. Eren pushes through the throngs of people silently, a serious look clouding his eyes. Our fingers gently lace together at the head of the crowd, waiting in eerie patience for the door to cave in as another loud bang sends the wood bending and creaking. I can see it in his eyes, and the tension everyone holds behind us, who they expect to see when the door comes down. Who it is that has plagued all of our thoughts these last weeks as we prepare for the worst.

 

The third loud bang sounds and the door splits violently into fragmented, bulky chunks of splintered wood; unrecognizable as the symbolic gate to our fortress wall. When the dust settles moments later, however, it is not Reeves we see. Instead, Eren’s breath halts beside me and Hanji lets out a whimper as three men in police uniforms step inside. There are more, waiting just outside, half-hidden in the fog of debris the men created.

 

Eren’s fingers grip me tight, and I hear Auruo behind me grunt an angry sound very similar to _no_. It takes long, silent moments for it to click together. The police officers are looking right into my eyes, and we are all unblinking, but only I am not breathing.

 

“Levi Ackerman, Inheritor and Lord of the Ackerman Estate and Businesses,” one of the men begins slowly, professionally, sounding far-away and underwater.

 

 _No_. I say it to myself, deep inside my mind, but it echoes. It reaches out, a ghostly whisper over my lips that ripples through the crowd behind me, building in momentum until every one of my residents find their voice; mumbling or crying or shouting _No! Don’t take him! He hasn’t done a thing!_

 

It is so unexpected, really, that someone like me would ever be defended so earnestly. They do not know my crime… my sin.

 

_You’re a murderer, after all. You should go quietly. Admit what you’ve done._

“You are under arrest for the murder-“

 

“No.” I realize that I recognize these men. They’re all much older now, looking worn from a long life as police officers in a world of crime. Or perhaps, worn from a life pretending to be _good, honest_ police officers. These men used to come here often to see my uncle. Likely, he paid them to turn a blind eye to his wrongdoings.

 

He stops, honestly surprised, and looks to his fellow officers for a moment. I’m surprised myself, and at the strength in my voice. When Eren’s thumb caresses my own, however, I remember where that strength is coming from. I give him a squeeze before disconnecting our fingers and stepping forward to stand before the men; drawing myself up as tall as I can manage and lifting my chin.

 

“I have done no such thing.”

 

“I beg to differ,” A sly, greasy voice eases in through the door, followed easily behind by Reeves himself. He looks just as vile as I remember him. “Mister Ackerman, that is, your _late_ uncle, died very suddenly all those years ago. And such a prominent business man, leaving it all to his only relative, who was only a child? Preposterous.” He scoffs, as if he really needs to make any points against me. These officers are obviously bought, as I look at the door that they could have simply knocked on, and the way they follow Reeves’ every word with nods of agreement despite no evidence of my guilt.

 

“Mister Dimo Reeves,” I collect myself for a calm retort, and he starts at the sound of his full name. “Allow me to list some of _your_ crimes, shall I?” I hear the crowd’s murmurs calm as each pair of ears hones in to listen. “Let’s begin with forgery. Sixteen years ago you forged the documents needed to obtain the rights to your business as well as the passports you used to travel while collecting the items of your trade. Eventually you built a decent working trade business and settled down, hiring criminals to do your dirty work while you sat at home. So now we establish that your livelihood and friendships are all built on lies and cemented with dirty money.” He scoffs, but I don’t let him say a word.

 

“But what did you do with all of that time at home? You indulged in a hobby that is normally quite fine by societal standards – slave trade. The difference is that you can’t seem to do anything _legal_ in your life, and you stepped over the few lines slavery involves: obtaining, trading, and using male slaves. Sometimes kidnapped, sometimes coerced, but always young. Too young. And once they were ‘too old’ for you….”

 

The corrupted officers were smiling gleefully moments ago when hearing about Reeves’ business crimes; certain they’d be getting good money for this. Now, however, they looked pale, possibly green, and completely uncertain of their choice to follow this man.

 

“You killed them.”

 

Many of the staff members lining the halls now gasp, having never known this particular detail of Reeves’ evil deeds. The police cringe, but Reeves is already regrouping, standing tall and stepping forward to meet me.

 

“You have no proof yourself, Ackerman!” His eyes are alight with denial, perhaps panic.

 

“Don’t put me on your level, _pig._ ”

 

Reiner steps up beside me, heedless of Reeves’ crazed look. “These prove enough, I think, Mister Ackerman.” Reiner says it to me, never looking at his former master, as if to drive home the point.

 

“A spy, huh?” The balding man does look surprised, but mostly amused as he lets out a small laugh.

 

I see now what Reiner was here to show me as he spills forth a pile of papers; at least a hundred authentic documents tumble to the floor around our feet. Reeves’ laugh dies coldly on his lips. We hear clearly in the following silence the metallic click of a pistol. Then, many rifles are being aimed our way.

 

“You little shit.” His eyes are sharp and dangerous, ready to kill Reiner right then.

 

The young spy finally steps forth, having found his courage, and points his own pistol just a foot or so from Reeves’ face while fishing a free hand through his jacket. A thick roll of papers emerges and joins the piles on the floor, scattering elegantly to reveal detailed sketches of the conman’s various meetings of the past few weeks. Some depict Reeves and Reiner through a dark window, chatting with shady characters or exchanging pouches of money. Some show only Reiner, alone in the manor doing his various duties.

 

“You had someone spying on me!?” The burly blonde man looks to me in disbelief, and the honest shock is laughable.

 

“Of course.” Amused at Reiner’s hurt pride, I forget all about the guns around me, and the danger of arrest or death.

 

Reeves remains still, uncertain of the gun in his own face even while pointing one into mine. The police behind him hold unsteady fingers over their triggers, not sure if anything is worth it if their benefactor dies.

 

“I’d rather no one got shot today, honestly.” A deep, confident voice carries over the crowd from behind me, holding a smirk in its lilt that makes me cringe.

 

“Erwin, so nice of you to finally join us.” I don’t turn around as I address him, which I’m sure he understands. The cold metal of a gun is quite the conversation deterrent.

 

“Well, I feel I must inform you that there’s an issue with your front door. We had to take the rear entrance. Scared a few maids, I think.”

 

He draws up beside me, accompanied by a group of soldiers proudly wearing Military Police emblems. I hear a small gasp from Hanji, but he knows better than to speak now.

 

Eren, however, doesn’t.

 

“Levi, what’s going on!?” His voice is shaking, likely a reflection of his spirits. At their limit, no doubt, in the face of his old tormentor pointing a gun at his current love. I silently thank him for staying put, and not doing anything more stupid.

 

“This is Erwin. Captain of the M.P. and an old friend. These nice soldiers have been waiting for some time for just this moment to arise.” I can’t help the smirk on my lips. Erwin is large and daunting beside the short, round man before us and his demeanor is everything that screams _Surrender now and I may be nice._ Only, he likely won’t be very nice at all. I have to appreciate Erwin now, years after sending him away.

 

“And you, Dimo Reeves, are under arrest for countless crimes to which I have already received evidence of. My soldiers here will escort you, and your… corrupt accomplices,” He glares at the police pointedly, “to the carriages outside. Don’t bother running, as we of course have you lot surrounded.” I don’t know if that is a bluff, as my letter left it up to Erwin how much help to bring. His hand reaches out, silently asking for Reeves’ gun. The man looks honestly fearful now, facing down one of the highest authorities while surrounded with the cold proof of his business crimes, if not his murders. Slowly, with shaking hands, the gun is lowered into Erwin’s large palm.

 

“Arrested!?”

 

It is Reiner who yells now, looking a bit crazed as his eyes quickly dart from us to his former master. In a moment, he’s on top of him, throwing him to the hard floor with hands tightening around the fat throat.

 

“I’LL NEVER FORGIVE WHAT YOU DID TO BERT!” There are tears in his eyes, and he has no mind for the guns starting to aim at him. He sees only Reeves and the horrendous loss of his loved one. Erwin’s men are rushing forward to stop the corrupt police from firing, a gun goes off and someone in the crowd screams, but no one moves. Erwin himself tries to pry Reiner off of their arrestee. Eren and I can only stare, a little shocked. After moments of struggling and Reeves turning purple, Reiner is finally pulled off of him. “I thought we were going to _kill_ him! Not let him go!” His angry gaze is directed at me now, and I return it with unflinching confidence.

 

“That would be murder, Reiner. Of course I wouldn’t do something like that.” It’s the truth, in the end. I may have done it once, but it had haunted me to the point that I became the monster I despised. I wouldn’t ever do something like that again. Eren wouldn’t want that, either, despite everything. This was the way we’d both wanted it done. Somehow, I felt cold. A deep part of me wanted this man to suffer, and I wanted to _take part_ in it. To cause it. To engrave the retribution of it into my body like this man engraved his mark into Eren’s, so that we could both be haunted together. But when I look over at Eren, his eyes are wide. His head is shaking, fighting, denying. He didn’t want Reeves to die. Eren was too good for-

 

“He deserves a fate worse than death.” His lips quiver as they say it, but his eyes are bright and determined. Maybe Eren wasn’t too good for such thoughts. Maybe he was just good at hiding it, because no one seemed to hear it but me. And that was something I admired about Eren. His ability to be so pure and honest in the face of every sin placed upon him.

 

“We have a special cell waiting just for him. He’s sent a lot of his dirty underground men to us just to get the rewards, and they can’t _wait_ to see him again. Even to thugs, a traitor is still the lowest.” Erwin says with a cruel smile, tugging Reeves back from Reiner’s still shaking form. He hands him over to a soldier before turning back to me, looking to see if I agree with that arrangement. Of course I do, I try to say with a glare. He nods.

 

Reeves begins to struggle against the soldier’s grip, shouting. “No! I haven’t done anything. Those papers prove nothing! Drawings? Hah! What can a drawing prove? I’ve been framed!”

 

There’s a hollow-sounding thud as the soldier hits his arrestee with the hilt of his Military-issued sword, and Reeves goes quiet. Reiner seems to calm then, along with the rest of the onlookers. Slowly, the soldiers trickle out to deposit their group of criminals into the Military carriages. Behind me, my staff are already regrouping themselves and returning to work reluctantly; wanting to eavesdrop but knowing they’d only be in the way.

 

Eren shakes beside me, and I strain to wrap my arm around his shoulders in comfort. Hanji gives Erwin and I a pointed look, saying silently _I’ll speak with the both of you later,_ before gently moving Reiner into a quiet room to calm down. The spy I’d been meeting with seems to have slipped away already, and suddenly it is only Eren, Erwin, and I in the large hall, alone.

 

“My office.” Is all I must say before they both turn and head towards the door, still open from when I’d rushed out. Erwin didn’t need any directions; he still knew this place perfectly.

 

“Well, that went splendidly.” His light tone doesn’t match the serious look on his face.

 

“Have a seat, old friend. You too, Eren.” We all sink in to our chairs simultaneously, taking long quiet moments to collect ourselves. Erwin speaks first.

 

“This place… it’s changed. I like it.”

 

“You saw the changes before you left.” I say, incredulous.

 

“I mean the people. When we arrived at the back, that chef of yours was already waiting. He’s a good man. It was obvious seeing all of those people in that hall – they were there because they cared, and they wanted to stand with you. That tells me you’ve done well to turn this place around.”

 

I ponder that for a while, hearing only the silence of the office and the afternoon winds outside. “Well, it took a while. And really, it’s Eren who made the difference.” He blushes, but still doesn’t speak. His eyes look tired, or concerned, or just distracted. It’s been a long day already.

 

“After I left here, I… I told you, that I felt terrible for never helping. I meant it. I moved my father and I to the Capital, and joined the force. Worked my way up. Tried to do the right thing. He passed away a few years ago, so now it’s just me, but I don’t mind. My soldiers are good people, so I’m happy.” He pauses, looking around the office that likely hasn’t changed much since his time here. I’m sure he’s reminiscing. “I was worried… that you weren’t doing well. I’d hear rumors whenever I came into town, but I could never bring myself to stop by. Then, I got your letter… I’m glad things are good. Aside from the obvious.”

 

“Well you’ve helped ‘the obvious’, so now things are indeed going to be good…” My sentence trails off, uncertain. I can’t help but be skeptical. Could my life ever really be good? Won’t there be something more to come and ruin it? Won’t my past always haunt me? As always, Erwin’s knowing eyes see me.

 

“Innocent until proven guilty, right? There’s no evidence here.” He smiles, sly. “I’ll take our secrets to my grave, Levi. I’d be considered an accomplice, anyway, if anyone ever…” As if realizing what he was saying, he looks to Eren with fear; so unlike himself.

 

“I-it’s fine, sir, I already know…”

 

“I see.”

 

Erwin appraises Eren for a long while, eyes flicking over him and lingering on the collar, as Eren tries hard to look away and ignore the intense gaze. His flustered blush is perfect, and eases some of the stress and ache I’ve been feeling for the last hour. Erwin understands immediately what it means that Eren knows my darkest secret.

 

“Eren, I understand that man was here because of you. That means, really, that he was finally brought to justice because of you. You’re very brave, and very strong. Levi is lucky to have you here.” The words are warm, and sickly sweet, and make me cringe. Eren smiles, because _of course_ he does. “I won’t get in your way… yet another secret I’ll take to my grave. As long as Eren wants to be here, that is.”

 

“Of _course_ I do! Uh… s-sir…” His startled reaction to the thought of being taken away is everything I’d been expecting, and I can’t deny that it warmed my heart. Eren telling me he wanted to stay here while Reeves was lurking around was one thing, but having him say it even knowing he is now free to do as he likes, it was… perfect. “I-… I want to stay with Levi. Always.” The confession is enough to have all of our cheeks red, and Erwin decides to leave before things get any more awkward.

 

We part ways at the destroyed front door, where he goes to join his soldiers at the carriages. We can hear the curses of the police locked inside, but there is no sound coming from Reeves’ personal carriage.

 

“I’ll see you both around.” He calls, and as we wave silently, two figures dart past; forcing Eren and I apart at the shoulders.

 

“Hey! What on Earth-!? _You guys_!?” Eren calls with mock anger.

 

Ymir and Krista have swung open the door that Erwin’s just closed, and they both begin talking frantically and shoving their way inside. I glimpse Erwin’s confused face before his eyes catch mine across the driveway. I shrug, and he returns it, and the door closes.

 

As the carriage pulls away, following the other, their two brown and blonde heads pop out of a window, hands waving.

 

“SEE YA ‘ROUND, LEE-VIII! ERRREEN!”

 

Eren laughs in that beautiful, pure way that I love, and I chuckle with him; just happy to have him here. Not as a slave, or as a servant, or even as a lover. But as a perfect, irreplaceable, and important friend.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just three chapters to go. Wow.
> 
> I'll give a bit of a warning here, but these last three chapters may not be updated in a timely fashion. I have no idea.  
> I'm buying a house, and some time in the next few weeks will be picking up all of my belongings and moving them an hour away,  
> where I will have no friends or family to help me do any work or unpacking. How tragic! I want, desperately, to finish this story before then,  
> so I don't keep you all waiting while I'm too busy to write. I have already written half of the next chapter, so we will see if I can manage it.
> 
> Even more than that, in the midst of moving, I am also about to undergo some pretty major medical procedures. I have no idea how my healing  
> process will go with all of that, and may be out of commission and living among boxes of my things without being able to unpack them for a time.  
> So, for obvious reasons, I have no idea if/how I'll be able to write. I hope that, in the event I slow down, you all will stick with me and understand.  
> This is assuming I can't finish these three chapters in the next two-ish weeks.
> 
> Thank you all for the support, and as always, FEEDBACK ME :D


	23. The Servant, Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nearly a year later, the servant must consider not the master, but himself.

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**The Servant, Revisited**

The town streets were narrow, only fitting one carriage at a time and thus allowing traffic only one-way; making carriage trips take much longer than they really needed to. I decided to walk into town that day, after having my coachman stop just on the outskirts. It was getting cold; Autumn fading into early Winter, and the sky was a bright, clear grey that was beautiful rather than gloomy. I wore my coat to match it, standing out against my dark hair and glasses. As silly as I had felt in front of the mirror that morning, I wanted to look nice.

 

“You’re being too stubborn, Han. Your usual uniform is fine!” Nifa was trying to convince me not to change my outfit for the fourth time, and I wasn’t having it.

 

“I’m not going to wear my work clothes to see Erwin! It will be our first time speaking like this in years.” I threw down the white button-up, quickly replacing it with a soft blue one Nifa had gotten me the week before on her first trip into town, with the first wages of her job. It seemed silly to me, since we both worked for Levi, and our money came from the same place. But she insisted that she had earned it, and wanted to use a portion of it on a gift for me. The shirt really did look nice with my brown hair and eyes, so I couldn’t argue. I kept that shirt on and began rifling through the pile on the floor for different pants. “I _told_ you how important he is-”

 

“Yes, yes, he’s your great, big man-crush from when you were a widdle one. Wear the black pants, _please_.” She practically begged when she noticed me tossing them away.

 

“I- I don’t _like_ him, Nifa, he’s-… he’s…!” My words were awkward and dumbfounded, unable to believe that my _girlfriend_ was accusing me of having a crush on someone at least ten or fifteen years my senior. Let alone a _man_.

 

“It’s cute. I didn’t say it like that; you admire him! Go on this date with him. Catch up. I expect to hear every detail of it later!” She seemed too happy to push her boyfriend out of the door, going so far as to call it a date and say he had a crush. It was this teasing side of Nifa that I adored.

 

I strolled down Main Street to find the small café Erwin had mentioned in his letter; which I stuffed into my coat pocket for reference. A bell chimed over the door as I entered. It wasn’t anything fancy. Just a few old tables and mismatched chairs, a counter sitting in front of a few ovens and coffee supplies. A display case with mediocre pastries, overpriced due to the inflation in the area, and new taxes on imported grains. It looked just like the sort of place no one would expect to find us in.

 

“Hanji,” He greeted me warmly, arms almost opening into a hug before he caught himself; instead extending a hand for a shake as equal men would do. I returned it, awkwardly, cheeks a little heated. “Please, sit. I got us some refreshments.”

 

The tray on the table held a few muffins, more fresh than the ones in the case, and two small cups of coffee. I dumped a generous amount of sugar into mine as soon as I took a seat, earning me a look of endearment from him. It was quiet there, in our own corner of the shop. His view was a dusty wall while I was able to glance out of the window.

 

“It’s good to see you. Thank you for meeting me.” His voice was warmer than the coffee.

 

“Thank you for inviting me. I must admit I was disappointed when you left in such a hurry before. But, given the situation…”

 

He chuckled, turning awkwardly to the side to glance out of the window where my gaze was held by nothing in particular. Embarrassment, likely. When our eyes met, I was finally able to return the warm smile he’d offered me. My nerves must’ve been showing, I thought.

 

“Well, this meeting is under a much better circumstance. You’ve grown into quite the dapper gentleman.” I knew what he was trying to say and I appreciated it, but I chose not to comment on it. Instead of having any sort of awkward conversation about our regrets or naivetés, we spoke about the weather. Erwin told me all about his new job in the Military, and even went so far as to tell me I’d be a good fit. I was surprised to hear that they welcomed women, and that Krista and Ymir were determined to rise up and join his squad. Many times, we found ourselves laughing over stories, and by the time our tales were done we’d eaten a second round of pastries in place of lunch. My anxiousness had subsided around the second cup of coffee.

 

The afternoon had brought a bit of warmth, making my walk back to the carriage quite lovely. Erwin walked beside me in silent complacency, looking a bit morose every now and then before schooling his expressions.

 

“Here we are. I’ll be returning to work for the rest of the day.” He nodded, and didn’t say very much. It occurred to me that perhaps he felt insecure. The look on his face was that of farewell, which was never my intention after a reunion. I laid a hand on his shoulder, a bit taller than my own and unfamiliar, but friendly. “You’ll be returning to Headquarters after this, right? Do keep in touch. I’ll need someone outside of the manor to complain to when things get tedious. I look forward to a letter every now-and-then!” I called out the last bit as my carriage rolled away, leaving him with a real smile on his face and a look of relief. It was enough to make the day a good one for us both.

 

Nifa did indeed pull every detail from me that evening, curled into my arms atop our mattress in dull candlelight. It was peaceful, and perfect, and everything we’d only imagined we could have when she was a slave. We were together, no longer skulking about in the night like deviants.

 

The next day, I awoke to tend to my duties. I no longer spent every moment tending to Master Levi. He was likely to make reasonable requests of his staff, but had recently begun to dress himself and come down for breakfast with the staff, Eren at his side. Our timely group meals had really become everyone’s favorite times of day. My new job still consisted mostly of my old duties, however. I did the staff hiring, and wrote schedules, and often ran Master’s errands in town for him. Things in the house were ever-changing now that Master himself had changed, and we were just getting the rooms of the house situated to accommodate everyone’s preferences. We were moving all of the previous slaves into new, private rooms that day. We’d lost a few maids when Master had announced his offers to let some staff go, and I was helping Annie’s small team of women make beds and fluff pillows all around the house when a soft knock came from the door.

 

I was on the second floor, guest side, and most of the others had finished their rooms here and moved on to the basement chambers. With arms full of linens and no way to open the door, I simply called out. “Come in!”

 

One of the girls, no longer a slave but not quite a staff member, entered slowly. She took one glance at my face before her own face fell, looking agitated and distant. Her eyes darted to the pile of unruly fabric in my hands, obviously trying hard to untangle the mess to make the bed neatly and failing. Cleanliness was never my forte, no matter how often Master had me do it. She made no move to help, choosing instead to sit roughly into a chair near the window.

 

“Annie told me this was my room. I thought one of the maids would be in here. Not you.” Her voice was cold, and the way she said _‘you’_ , with just a bit of bite, told me she didn’t like my presence.

 

“I’m just helping out. I’ll only be a moment I hope…” I struggled with the bed for a few long minutes, feeling her sharp stare on my back, only serving to increase my ineptitude at the task and prolonging my time in the room. After the third attempt to apply the sheet smoothly while simultaneously tucking the sides as Annie had shown me, I felt her hand on my arm. She tugged it roughly, and I stumbled a few steps away from the bed.

 

“I’ll do it.”

 

I watched her for a moment, stuck in my shock, and she manages it in one go. Once I recovered, she had already moved onto the thick quilts.

 

“Is something the matter, miss?” I tried saying it gently. I’d been trying hard lately to let that false wall of indifference fall. Until then, the only one to see me without that barrier was Nifa, and she’d let me know quickly that the other girls didn’t believe it. They thought I was cold, and that I would have been content if Master had kept treating them poorly. I’d thought hard about their feelings, and knew this time would come.

 

“I just want to do this myself, please.” Her tone was politely cold, retaining the courtesy that was expected of her while pushing me away. I decided to step back and allow her to finish. After she was done, her hands lingered over the cloth. She knew I was there, but did not want to meet my eyes.

 

“I know how you must think of me…” I’d prepared myself for a speech of some sort, but found the words gone from my lips. Her eyes finally swung my way only to reveal angry tears.

 

“At least once a week.” It was the quiet sort of yell, accusatory in tone. “That’s how often I’d been called on. And every time, you-… it was you. Looking calm, and completely fine with it all. You’d escort us all out when the time came with that same _stupid_ look on your face!” A finger landed an inch before the lenses of my spectacles. “You took me to that extravagant bathroom and bathed me… like an animal. Like a pretty pet, or a toy. Showed me all the beautiful riches of the house that will never be my own, scrubbed me down like I was filthy, and then dumped me into the arms of an unpredictable man.” By now her voice was shaking, and the speech I’d wanted to make was gone, replaced with her own very real and very important one. “Sometimes he was almost normal, you know? He’d just get it over with, almost look guilty… but then, there were those times when… and you helped him. You’d get all the sick little toys ready. You’d blindfold us. Like some accomplice.”

 

It was a stab to the heart. It was brutality in verbal form, and it was completely lacking. It wasn’t enough. She was right. I was an accomplice.

 

My mind wandered to Erwin. The man who had felt so guilty about sitting by and doing nothing that he’d run off, tail between his legs without a look back. I was much worse, really. I’d hardly felt guilty. I had made myself cold, turned it all off, and decided it had nothing to do with me because I’d been remade as a man. The girls… they were a different world; one I didn’t want to look at too closely because I would remember that that was almost _me_. An excuse I can never tell this girl, looking at me with so much hatred yet still expecting a reason. Something that would allow her to get past it. I had nothing to offer her, it felt.

 

“There isn’t anyone left in the house that doesn’t know what happened to Master Levi. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why he was almost arrested. It doesn’t excuse a damn thing but at least it makes sense! But you- I can’t figure you out. What reason do you have for what you’ve done?”

 

It echoed within me. Each time it bounced off a wall of my heart, it was another stab that I deserved. This girl hated us. She wanted desperately to find something to cling to; some hope that we aren’t going to one day change our minds and force her back into that cage of a shared room again. Likely, she didn’t have anywhere else to go or any work she could do. Now she felt trapped even after being set free.

 

Erwin’s warm, confident smiles from the day before were working through my mind. _He came back from that. He wasn’t the guilty, defeated man he left here as. I can come back from this, too._ I steeled my resolve.

 

“There is no excuse. There is no reason that I can give you that will ever make you forgive and forget. I was cold because I was an idiot. Self-centered and cowardly. I don’t ever want to be forgiven for that. All I can say is that… with all of my being, I want to see all of you happy and free. I want you to do whatever you want with your life and to never be forced to serve someone like that again. Master Levi is honestly repenting, in his own ways, and I will do the same. You never have to speak to me if you do not want to. I won’t come near you. But please understand that we are earnestly trying…”

 

The words began to fall off, because I knew they would grow repetitive and annoying to someone already on edge. I watched her wipe a few tears on a sleeve, and without looking at me, she gave me a nod. It was enough, for just then, to tell me it was alright. She didn’t forgive anything, and she would never forget, but she wouldn’t cause problems.

 

A weight was lifted from us both, though still real and tangible somewhere above our heads.

 

I did my best from that day forward. I smiled jovially when greeting everyone, told jokes and played games, organized ridiculous events to keep up morale. Somehow, I was becoming the mascot in some sense, but it was better than keeping it all in. Tip-toeing over eggshells for years had damaged something in me; something Nifa had always awakened and something I could now show to everyone with confidence. I would be sure that the people living in this place would never doubt, for even a moment, that this would be a safe place for anyone searching for a home in this twisted world.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters to go! I bet you can guess their titles, eh?  
> I've had this chapter completed for a week and totally never got around to posting it, as I was hoping to finish the other two and put them all up in rapid order. That didn't happen. Enjoy, anyway!  
> I am on track to finish this before I move, which is good news.
> 
> As always, feel free to follow my completely unentertaining tumblr.  
> sleazyjeezy.tumblr.com


	24. The Master, Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From monster to man, the Master had gone.

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**The Master, Revisited**

The first thing Eren and I ever really decided together was the front door.

 

The day after Reeves’ arrest, I awoke to an empty space beside me in bed. I dressed and ate slowly, expecting Eren to return to the room any minute. When my plate was cleared and he still hadn’t shown, I was anxious.

 

It wasn’t hard to find him, really. The house was quiet and contemplative in the aftermath of everything. His warm, rare laugh could be heard anywhere on the first floor. I followed the musical sound out a side door to the wrap-around deck, and found my steps paralyzed by the sight of him.

 

Eren, in all of his glowing beauty, arms out and reaching to the sky. Pure morning light raining down over him, embracing him, wrapping him in oranges and yellows and golds. His smile was the largest I’d ever seen, and his water-colored eyes were glowing with the sun as he traced them over the sky as if he’d never seen it before, saying something so honest and cliché. _‘I’m here, I’m free, I’m happy.’_ Light dancing through them, sunshine in the ocean. His laugh really was music, and it called me out to the grassy field to join him. My body moving without thought, my heart thrumming in my chest.

 

It wasn’t just warmth on my skin. It was a blanket secured around me, a pat on the back from my long-dead mother. Eren’s fingers entangled with my own. Our breath, in sync and mingling.

 

We’d close our eyes and just listen. Taste the air. Every time I’d open mine, I’d catch him staring at me; a look I couldn’t read. Each time, he’d be a little closer, and I’d pretend not to notice, until he was inches away and we couldn’t pretend anymore. His body was there, so close. His lips coming closer; teasing once again. But the dramatic crashing of mouths I always anticipated didn’t come. We’d simply distance ourselves and begin the dance all over again. Nerves and insecurities, piled atop our attractions and adorations.

 

When I’d finally convinced him to go inside and eat his breakfast, I made the decision to take him in to town. He happily ran through the broken hole that was once our front door, and down to the stables and carriage house. We went straight to the woodworker, where Eren excitedly introduced himself to the shop owner while examining everything around like a child. It was innocent, and perfectly adorable, and only reminded me how much of the world he had missed.

 

After flipping through various books featuring the worker’s sketches and ideas, then browsing the aisles of woods and varying metals, arguing all the way, we settled. Eren wanted more window than door, while I wanted to maintain the classic feel of the rest of the house. He liked the gold hinges, I wanted bronze. We compromised. The final order was for a set of double doors- mostly windows with textured glass, and bronze adornments. It was perfect, I realized, when it was finally built and installed. We made a good team.

 

After that, between all renovations, Eren would drag me outdoors every day. We mended the single bullet wound to the foyer ceiling, rearranged all of the second floor into staff and guest quarters. Slave rooms would be no more in this house, regardless of what any outsiders have to say about it.

 

Lastly, we chose to renew my long-stagnant chambers. Eren at the helm, and myself following his lead. It was easier that way. With him making the calls, ordering around the workers, choosing the new floorboards, I didn’t have to think about why this was significant. I could pretend this was any other space that needed updating. Nothing to worry over. It took days to complete, but we always ensured it was well enough to spend the night in; reluctant to share a space elsewhere. Eren’s own room had quickly been stolen by someone else, though I don’t think he’d even noticed.

 

In those dark nights, laid against the backdrop of torn-up floors and torn-up memories, it was difficult. It was true that I didn’t feel explosive any longer. Rarely did I feel angry. Still, it was the need for control that got me twitching. I managed my staff with a tight schedule, and ran my business the same. But when it came to Eren, it was easy. Easy to let him carry a part of the burden. He could command the workers and choose the new floorboards and arrange the new bathroom and do all of these things I choked on. And then in the night, he could bow his head and hand the helm back over to me, knowing full well that I needed it. I suspected he needed it, too. With all of the freedom he now received, my Eren still craved the comfort of confinement. Deep inside he maintained a level of claustrophobia; even if metaphorical. We hadn’t changed completely. Never would. I tugged on his collar on and his hair and his limbs, and he gasped and he begged and he blushed. We really did make a good team.

 

I watched as Hanji took on a new light of his own. He was goofy, and friendly with everyone, and openly inquisitive. I would remember briefly the fun we had as children, hidden away. It was pleasing to see him, too, suddenly free from invisible shackles and walls. The Hanji of recent years had been unhappy, and I’d been a fool.

 

The slave girls were no longer such, instead maids or gardeners or sous-chefs. Most of them smiled politely. I didn’t mind the ones who didn’t. It was hard to look at them, still, but Eren was supportive and often reminded me that we all make mistakes.

 

When all of the changes were complete, it was perfect. Eren had known exactly how to brighten the gloomy space. There were larger, clearer windows, and lighter curtains, and new, fluffy rugs. We choose the furniture together, again, including a new bed and frame. He blushed when I pointed to a very sturdy four-post piece, and I knew just what he was thinking. We’d also enlarged the bathroom tub, much to our joint pleasure. All in all, it was a space that was entirely our own, and free of the past. We’d both escaped.

 

“Eren, I have something for you.” It was late evening, following dinner, not long after things had calmed down and renovations had completed. I’d wanted to do this for weeks. Since the moment I gave him the collar, really, but had never found the right time or words. Then, after weeks of living together in the same room, in a free household, in a true relationship, it felt right.

 

He sat across the bed from me, stalled in the middle of dressing into his night clothes, wearing only loose slacks and that glorious collar.

 

“I’ve struggled for a while… as you know… with how to behave in this relationship.” There was a heavy pause, and I’m grateful that Eren is so perceptive, because he let me take my time and think without growing impatient or interrupting. He was just watching me, intent on understanding and hearing each word that I said. I’ve always loved that about him. I think that was the first time I realized that ‘love’ was what Eren and I had at all.

 

“I want us to be equals, but I also want to take care of you. To control you in just the sense that I ensure you are eating right, sleeping well, and doing all of the things that you love…” I grasped the small gift in my palm, feeling it dig into the flesh. Feeling, just momentarily, that it wasn’t enough. It was so insignificant to what I wanted to say. “But I know that people change. I have changed so much in just this past year… I can’t expect you to forever stay the same. And although I have no doubt that I would love any person you become… I cannot always imagine that you would love me as well. So…” I swallowed a lump, and freed the piece of metal from my hand. It dangled between us from a leather string, mirroring his days wearing the keys to the trunk. Back then, they were a symbol. Not only did I trust him to bow down to me and accept pain and punishment, but I expected him to unlock the instruments himself; to give permission, in some twisted way. It made me believe perhaps he wanted it.

 

This would be different. A symbol, yes. But of something entirely new.

 

“Levi…” He gasped. “Did you just… you… you love me?” His eyes were swimming questions, hopeful and surprised and brilliant. And it wasn’t until he asked that I even realized I’d said anything of the sort.

 

“I-… yes. I suppose I do.” There was a twitching in my lips, betraying my shocked joy. His own expression looks lost in thought, a distant smile there. As I extend my hand over the mattress to him, he dips his head reflexively. The key slides over his soft hair easily. “Eren, I am giving you this so that you _know_. You are always free, from now on. For the rest of our lives, you may do whatever you wish. If you ever wish to leave, I will not stop you… but, if there is anything you want to do in this life to make you happy, I want us to do it together. I want you by my side.”

 

I gave him the collar to say _I never want you to leave. Be mine._

I gave him the key to say _You are not mine to own. Be free._

My vision was full of only his large smile, so pure and radiant. A blur of green eye, a rush of brown hair, and I was down; pressed into the new, soft mattress by his inviting form. He was warm, and solid, and certain. Our lips met, as if they’d never been apart. As if we weren’t both so completely new to the idea of kissing.

 

His lips tangled into mine, and then his tongue was begging for entrance; crashing into my own as we each fight to taste the other. My heartbeat was surely audible from the floor below; I felt so completely alive, so completely… complete. The feeling of our breath together, and the tickle of his mouth so gentle on my own. It was nothing like what I’d imagined. It was better. It was real. Even if I didn’t know when to breathe, or where to place my hands, and even if he smacked our teeth together a few times. Every small kiss he snuck between the large ones was a confession. And when he finally pulled back to speak, it was almost silly; he’d just said it so many times. Why say it aloud now? But he did, and it made me dizzy, and the only thing that kept me from falling was that he still had me pinned into the mattress.

 

“I love you, Levi.” He was whispering it between more kisses, saying it a thousand times. We both knew I’d never be able to say it the way he managed; but it became clear he was saying it enough for us both.

 

Of course, he accepted the key by claiming he’d never use it.

 

Eventually, Eren convinced me that horses were for more than pulling my carriages around town. I didn’t see the appeal of _riding_ the thing. The way I saw it, such things were for sketchy peasants and huntsmen. But Eren made quick work of convincing the horses to trot him around the fields, and even quicker work of getting me to try it.

 

I had to admit, it _was_ rather enjoyable. And as long as they’d gotten a good bath, the horses didn’t even stink. Maybe, just maybe, I liked it. Maybe enough to give Eren horseback tours through the countryside, out to the rivers and plains.

 

 

In time, Eren’s skin had taken on a very natural tan- while my own would only burn; one that made it obvious the crime of keeping this man indoors. I cursed his farm-boy nature, thinking back to his family file I’d recovered during my Reeves investigations. His father had been a doctor, but everything about Eren suggested labor and wildlife. When I asked Eren if he wanted to see his family again, his only response was a sullen headshake. I didn’t say any more about it; told him no details. Not that they were still mourning his loss, or that they’d taken in a little girl, or that his mother had started selling her vegetables from a small market stall. Not even that they had recently moved… and now lived quite close-by. Close enough for a horseback ride one afternoon.

 

The reunion would come, when he was ready. I’d only just began believing in fate, but even then, I knew it would work out.

 

Eren did eventually remove the collar; a few years later when life led him in the professional direction. It was a very adult thing for him to do, and by then I understood that Eren was mine. He didn’t need its security any longer; I didn’t need its reassurances. It didn’t hurt me to see it gone from his neck, and he kept it quite close by at home. But always, he wore the key. Tucked beneath a dress shirt, never to raise questions from prying eyes, but always to symbolize what we had. What we’d been through and gotten through together.

 

They were the most peaceful days of my life. Instantaneously, it seemed, I knew what it meant to be happy. Happiness had come suddenly, out of a life that had been only anger and self-loathing. It was so new it was nearly frightening. But Eren was with me. He was always with me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been done for weeks tbh but I get so nervous about ending fics that I had to fight myself to post it at all, despite all of the overwhelming support you all give me. Thank you so much.  
> I hope I don't let anyone down.


	25. The Boy, Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was free.
> 
> They all were.
> 
> The walls had come down.

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

**The Boy, Revisited**

It was strange, being free.

 

It was only a distant memory, until Reeves was arrested.

 

Running around with mom and dad as a little kid, helping them each at work as I grew older. Playing in the forest, jumping from tree to tree with childish ignorance of danger.

 

I had to rediscover it all in those days and weeks following the incident, with Levi at my side.

 

We would do small things, like simply eating meals outside or reading quietly beneath a tree. We’d each take a break from our duties each day to be together, and it was grand. I got to know Levi as a person; a man who works for a living and takes pride in doing well, who is adorably uneducated in simple things like washing dishes and hanging laundry, despite insisting those things are done more often than necessary. We spent a lot of time just learning who we were, and who we were together. Teaching one another what we could. But at some point, I realized I wanted more. For the first time in my life, I had the right to dream of a somewhat normal future. I didn’t have to sit around Levi’s mansion doing nothing even if he would let me, and I didn’t have to make my money as a servant, even if I didn’t really mind the work.

 

After a long period of consideration, I decided to go back to school.

 

There was a small school in town, usually reserved for the well-off who’d passed all grades at the local institutions and wished for more education. It was called a college, and you had to pay a ridiculous sum of money for it. It was one of the first schools of its kind in our area, so they got away with it. Of course, when I told Levi I wanted to finish my education, he insisted I go there.

 

School helped me overcome my stutter. I no longer got anxious or nervous in tough situations, and never was I afraid of every figure in my peripheral vision. The ghost of Reeves was gone; living as he was in prison. I refused all news of him; content to live knowing he was gone from my life. I had enough reminders of him without picking up a newspaper.

 

The ghosts of my friends, however, stayed with me. I liked it that way.

 

I thought of them every single day. Imagined how we would spend time together if we’d all made it away as I had. Imagined their faces as Reeves was brought to justice. It finally felt that they were liberated. We all were, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

 

Reiner and I weren’t friends, but we did chat politely when we met on the street. He tried again to tell me the tale of his love with Bertholdt, who was The Boy With No Teeth. I couldn’t listen. I only saw how he stomached working for the man who would enslave the person he’d fallen in love with. Eventually he moved away and I never heard from him again.

 

I convinced Levi to see a mental health doctor with me, to which he grumbled about me being a doctor’s son. It helped, if only a little, to sort out the things we’d been carrying around. I was less anxious and starting to gain confidence. Levi still had anger, but he was learning how to channel it. We could never be perfect; but we didn’t need the other to be.

 

Levi was different, but never so different that he wasn’t the man I had grown to love. He spoke more, and sighed less. You could catch him smiling, just slightly; a small, gentle smirk that was like a secret whisper.

 

I loved watching him work. We’d share his office space, him with papers spread over his desk and me with my books spread over the rug. I’d get lost in the crease of his brow and forget all about the writing I was meant to be doing, until he’d notice and scold me. They were the best days.

 

Best of all was the day I turned eighteen.

 

It was the first time Levi and I made love.

 

And it seemed stupid at the time to get so emotional; we’d done so many things together, and we’d certainly had sex. But this was different. So, so different.

 

It started out as any other day; and just like the year before, I was so wrapped up in the goings on of the house, I’d forgotten my birthday all together. My morning chores were running on late, keeping me away from homework. I had mountains of schoolwork every day, since I’d missed so much in my years of isolation. I remember spending my time scrubbing porcelain plates in the kitchen, grumbling about arithmetic, the sound of splashing water concealing footsteps behind me.

 

Warm hands found my waist. A nose pressed into my shoulder.

 

“Levi?” I gasped, surprised.

 

“Eren, who told you to do chores today?” He sounded like he wanted to come off as annoyed, but I could hear the mischievousness in his tone. It had me instantly intrigued.

 

“No one. I always do my share of the chores in the morning shift, you know that.”

 

His uninterested grunt was the only reply before he removed my hands from the water, dried them, and led us outside. The washing had taken me most of the morning, and I realized as the sun burned into my eyes that it was already bordering on lunch time; much to my displeasure as I thought about the dishes I’d just washed getting dirtied again already.

 

“Quit thinking about those things, someone else will take care of it. Right now, we’ve got other plans.” He said, reading my mind.

 

“We do?”

 

He only nodded his head, leading me by the hand all around the gardens and farther from the house than we normally went on our walks.

 

I asked, already knowing he likely wouldn’t answer, “If we are going far, shouldn’t we get the horses?”

 

We rounded a corner made up of trellises, covered in rose vines, that once bloomed would erupt in pinks and reds. There, in the midst of the plants as they awoke from winter, a small chill in the air but enough sunlight to warm, was a picnic. Levi didn’t allow me to speak, only leading me to sit atop a thick blanket. He poured us both a small glass of champagne before I had to ask what was going on.

 

“Happy birthday, Eren. I assume you forgot again, but after last year’s less-than-impressionable gift, I thought I should make this one a bit more memorable. And perhaps more personalized.” The secret smirk was back, playing over his lips in a smug way that said _Surprised?_

We forgot the food after only a few bites. The champagne has an effect on me, which Levi knew, and certainly bet on. It wasn’t long after the bottle was emptied that I found my arms wrapped around him, legs tangled as we laid over the blanket. He watched the sky, and I watched him, and it was so ridiculously novel that I thought to ask him which book he’d plucked it from.

 

When his eyes met mine, the question was gone. Replaced on my lips by his own warm set. It was soft, and deliberate, and perhaps a bit calculating as he tended to be in moments of physical contact. Nevertheless, it was enough to draw me in. He took deep breaths, tongue laving the skin of my neck, drinking me up to satisfy some craving. Insatiable.

 

My voice rang out through the garden as it happened. I didn’t mind.

 

Levi’s fingers as they caressed my skin, peeling me from my clothing and revealing me to the clouds above. His own voice, husky with desire as he trailed warm breath down my abdomen in small groans. Again, he took me into his mouth; there were no restraints, and no barriers, and I knew instantly what it meant that he would do that for me not once, but again and again. Hopefully forever.

 

When finally we silently agreed that there was going to be no waiting, we were doing things there and then- passerby be damned, he slid inside of me. So sweetly, achingly, shuddering with anticipation and self-control; moving just enough to feel the friction but never enough to break this new connection we felt. My legs wrapped around his waist of their own volition as my mind forgot how to command my body, and he pressed our chests together.

 

It was the most real I’d ever felt.

 

Never had either of us been so slow, so careful, or so completely ready.

 

I was a whole being, then. Wanted, and needed, and loved. Not forgotten; never abandoned.

 

Valid.

 

I belonged. I’d found home and freedom, all in one.

 

It was so right to find this missing piece of myself there beneath the sun, wind whipping our hair and rustling leaves making music as we swayed together.

 

His fingers would dig into my flesh, saying _stay, please,_ rather than _stay, I command it._ Our lips never wavered. Each deliberate, rhythmic thrust was met with loud, honest moans. We whispered, and laughed, and loved until we came; and then he scowled at the mess and uneaten food, and I laughed again.

 

Would have fallen asleep there under the sun if not for the sound of Hanji’s shrill call from the house.

 

When I finally graduated from school, ready to take on a teaching role at the institute myself, Levi decided to change his house crest. To the public, it just seemed like some statement that he wasn’t his uncle. They’d all caught wind of changes in the estate, so it wasn’t so shocking. But the people of the house knew better; immediately blushing when they saw the old flag come down. The stoic, uninviting visage of a horse now replaced with two spread wings; one black and one white.

 

The only thing more telling of his meaning would have been asking me to change my name.

 

Of course, I didn’t. Things like that were still quite unheard of, taboo even, back then.

 

We were happy, and the people of the house were happy, and no one really gave a damn what anyone else did to become that way as long as it wasn’t harmful.

 

Even now, old men as we are, we’re happy.

 

And that’s that.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My partner tried to tell me that [trellis](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trellis_\(architecture\)) isn't a word and wE FOUGHT.
> 
> I really needed Eren's first legitimate time to be outdoors in this fic, because the whole point is that he was trapped in so many ways and couldn't unwind.
> 
> So, picnic sex.
> 
> You're WELCOME.


	26. Afterword

****

**The Master’s House**

**Afterword**

When I began this story, it was seriously terrifying for a while.

If you’ve made it this far, then I’m sure you saw the hateful comments.

I was always so worried that I was writing for nothing. Those of you reading this, you proved me wrong. And that was the best bit of confidence I ever received.

 

Thank you, so very much.

 

The last chapters didn’t really reach my usual word count, and I’m sorry if that seemed at all anti-climactic. Mostly, I didn’t want to force anything in there just for the sake of a counter. In the end, I am pleased with it, and I hope you are as well.

 

I hope you will stay with me for even more stories in the future.

 

**The Master's House,**

**End.**


End file.
